Knight's Game
by Kyuuketsuki Fang
Summary: There is no greater tragedy than loss, and the worst thing to lose is reality. A single man can forget this and shatter the world of thousands. Takes place in medieval Johto.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer- I do not own Pokemon. Period.**

He looked out the large window that watched out on the entire capital city. Large red roofs sat on tall gray buildings that stretched high into the air, looming majestically over the trees and roads.

Citizens were missing from their usual chores of daily activity. There were no shoppers strolling the streets, or elders lounging about.

That was perfectly explainable, though. A great plague thought to be brought by migrating Yanmega had settled upon the great capital.

He was undeterred, however.

His strength was much, and his power grand; a mere disease would not bring such a strong man down, he said to all inquirers. Instead, he looked over piles of notes he had collected in his years.

He sat on the third floor of the royal palace, his dark hair merely brushing over his intense wine-colored eyes. His white gloved hands moved over his shield over and over in an almost loving fashion as he shined and polished it in the sun's rays.

That shield was the sign that showed his accomplishments, his honor, his ability as a knight of Jota, even more so than the fancy white cape that hung from his neck and flowed past his strong knees, and the large golden-hilted sword strapped on to his waist along with his multiple glimmering Pokeballs.

The door was locked behind him, so that no unexpected servant or maid might walk in on him as he studied and pored over his strategies and plans.

If he did this, then that happened...and if he did that...

No one disturbed him throughout the afternoon, and no one would. If a man of his caliber requested as to not be bothered, not even a lord or lady would dare to bother him. He was content.

What happened if—No, then that would stop this which wouldn't work for him at all...

The two portraits that hung in front of him were of the King, His Majesty Dayan and the Lady, Queen Jade. Two candles—green, as that was the color of the Lady's namesake, and therefore both of their favorite colors—sat burning on the table directly below them, representing his hopes in them recovering.

As he sat reading, both King and Queen laid on their deathbeds as the plague took its tolls on them. They had no heir.

Yes, it would be an interesting year indeed.

**This is the prologue of an idea I had while reading a medieval times book. Other chapters will be longer. I promise.**

**Yes, this takes place at the beginning of the regions. However, since it was such a long time ago, things are different and some things do not exist yet. I will do my best to give you the basic idea so you can understand.**

**The region names are different (as it is very possible that they just changed over time) and the newer regions such as will not have been discovered yet.**

Johto is called Jota, now. Her capital is Ecruteak.

Sinnoh is Sinnoa, with her capital as Celestic Town.

Hoenn remains the same; the capital is Mauville.

Kanto is named Kantus; with Viridian as the capital.

The Orange Isles are not islands yet, and are called Oran.

**That being said, if there's anything else I forget, I'll put it on my profile under my current fics. Extra info, announcements, etc., all that will be on my profile. Btw, I already have the first announcement up, so feel free to check that out~**

**Reviews are widely appreciated. ;D **


	2. A Jotan Dilemma

**Disclaimer- I do not own Pokemon.**

Crowds of civilians—peasants and nobles alike—flocked in front of the imperial palace in their finest, whether it be cotton trousers or silken gowns. The plague has finally lifted its ugly face, but not without taking its last couple hundred lives.

Unfortunately, among those last ones who died were both the King and the Queen. They had both succumbed to the symptoms of the plague a couple of hours ago, each asking for the other. The people prayed that they would meet again in the afterlife, whatever the afterlife was. They had been good rulers.

On this morning, though the sun was radiant in her shining and her skies beamed a true blue, a slightly renowned priest—for the one at the castle had long died of the plague—droned on about his sorrows and spoke of his numerous praises of the late King.

Inside the Jota palace, in the Royal Council room, twelve nobles sat around a circular table. Six of those were the only remaining Jota lords and ladies. They had lost countless lives to the plague, and everyone had lost at least one family member.

The others were of foreign, but friendly, lands, sent to help the troubled country in her hard times.

Or try to, at least.

"You are telling me," Lady Naomi Astari of Sinnoa murmured icily, "that every single person planned to be in line for the throne...has died?"

The six nobles nodded silently.

"We all have our disagreements on who will take the throne. We fear it will turn to bloodshed," said the youngest of the nobles, Lord Ethan Chambers. His words fell upon deaf ears though, as Naomi digested the information.

"Well," the Captain of the Guard corrected, "Not all of them. The King's—pardon, the late King's—nephew, he wasn't here at the time of the plague."

"Nor has he been seen for four long, hard years!" scoffed Lady Kelana Drae.

The Captain merely shrugged. "True, but there's a slight chance he is alive. As a loyal knight of Jota, we were taught to think of all possibilities."

"I agree with him," said Naomi, "If this nephew were ever to return, surely he'd be first in line for the throne."

"_If_ he returns. I have an objection," Lady Verona Lance declared, "Garret Mahogany, the late King's nephew, is disliked. I think we'd have a riot on our hands should we ever crown him."

"What are you talking about, Verona?" the Captain laughed, "Sir Garret is one of the most successful knights in all the countries! Very popular too. I think you only want the crown to yourself."

Verona flushed red, but no one could tell if it was from fury or embarrassment. "Popular with the ladies, anyways," she hissed.

"I'll thank you, Sir Felix Wright, to not talk to my wife in that tone!" snapped Duke Matthias Lance.

"I was merely speaking my mind," replied the knight smoothly, "Please forgive my insolence."

The duke merely glowered, and said nothing.

"Peace, nobles," another man spoke firmly, "We should not fight among ourselves."

"What would you know, foreigner?" Verona flipped her auburn hair over her shoulder and stared at him with cold amber eyes, "I don't recall you at any council meeting or ceremony. Who are you?"

"Forgive me for not introducing myself," he said humbly, "My name is Lored. I hail from the noble country of Kantus."

Lored had dark skin and black hair. His nose was long and thin, and his eyes were sharp and steady. They held the most commanding thing about him.

"Any halfwit fool can claim that they are of Kantus descent," Kelana said, her light brown eyes staring deeply into his, "Actually, if I recall correctly, Kantus claimed that they would not be sending a representative because of problems with rebellions."

Lored shrugged, grinning profusely. "What can I say to that?"

"And even if you were a noble of Kantus, which I highly doubt," Verona shrilled, "how would you help us? I think Jota matters should be left to Jotans! I was against accepting aid from the start!"

"In the small chance that I could help you, wouldn't it be nicer to keep me here?" Lored asked innocently.

They were speechless for a moment, before Felix, the Captain, broke the silence.

He broke out in heavy chuckles, "Very well, Lored of Kantus. I think I'll like you!"

Lored's grin widened, but his eyes indicated that he was very serious about that matters at hand.

"Well," Naomi began, bringing everyone's attention back to the problem, "what if we chose the new King fairly? Say, almost random."

"Like picking out of a hat?" Felix joked, before calming, "That would not do. I would not serve an unworthy king, and neither would many of my men."

"So we pick them by skill," Naomi continued, acknowledging the Captain's input, "What if we held a tournament and tested them with each level? Eliminated the truly unworthy scum you would not serve?"

"But who would enter?" Kelana asked.

Ethan caught on quickly, "Anyone who wanted to!"

Duke Matthias drawled slowly, "But what if a common farmer won? He would lead us to ruin!"

"Would a common farmer win?" Naomi countered, and the battle was won.

They would have a tournament.

XXX

Lady Naomi Astari strolled pleasantly down one of the many winding corridors of the Jota Palace's West Wing. There was something off, she could feel, but she could not place her finger on it exactly.

And for that, she was frustrated.

Her mind was ablaze with striking possibilities, perhapses, and maybes. She could only wonder why some things were so, and why others were not. It didn't fit together like it should, and that would not do.

Not for Naomi Astari.

She turned the corner and bumped into a page running through the hallway, a silver jug of milk in hand. The boy, no older than 10, collided into her, sending the jug of milk flying into the air.

It was denied the ability to soar, and plummeted to the marble tiles of the hall, and shattered; milk splattered everywhere.

Jaw set in a disgusted grimace, Naomi opened her blue eyes to stare down at her ruined gown. Luckily, it was only milk, which would come out easily and wouldn't stain. _Unfortunately_, a sour smell was beginning to rise from the liquid that seeped into her clothes.

"I-I'm so sorry, miss! I'll clean it up! Um, uh," the page stammered, blushing furiously as he stared at the mess on the floor. He then rushed to find something close that could be used to clean up the spilled milk.

Finding nothing, he stripped off his tunic and used it to mop up the milk. His frantic scrubbings mostly missed the spillage, but Naomi found amusement merely watching his actions.

The page had brown hair, wildly messy as he ran back and forth in attempt to clean up the mess. His eyes were gray, racing with both fear and excitement. His skin was slightly tanned, most likely from training under the heavy sun, and he was slightly muscular. Other than that, though, he was fairly small and short.

Naomi sighed, and waved a hand, "No, it's fine. But whatever is that smell?"

They both lifted their chins to sniff the air.

Sure enough, it was the stench of milk that had been sitting under the summer sun for a day.

The page growled, "That _jerk!_ He must have given me bad milk!"

"Hm?" Naomi asked, "Is this...spoiled milk?"

If the page's face could've been redder, Naomi swore that it would.

"I-it-don't worry! I-I'll go and, and clean it up! Yeah, I'll just go and--!" he gibbered, waving his arms wildly to try and reassure her. If anything, it would've scared anyone else.

"It's fine," Naomi sighed exasperatedly, moving to push herself off of the ground. The page went to help her up, as should any young to-be-knight to a maiden, but she pushed him away and supported herself up.

When both of them were safely and firmly standing upright, Naomi turned to the page and asked, "What is your name?"

"Linus Wright, miss," he replied, saluting, "I'm the son of Jota's Captain of the Guard, Sir Felix Wright."

She stared.

It was very rude, Naomi remembered, but she could not think of any other adequate response to the surprise. She simply couldn't believe that this scrawny midget of a page could be the son of the Captain at the meeting not even 2 hours ago.

"Okay," she said dumbly, for lack of anything else to say.

Linus looked to the ground, seemingly finding his feet a lot more interesting than the Sinnoan Lady in front of him. He didn't look that embarrassed though, leading Naomi to think that it was very usual for someone to act that shocked. She felt slightly ashamed.

"Yeah, I'm a lousy excuse for a page," Linus murmured, "I didn't want to be one, either, but I was the oldest son, so I had to."

Naomi found herself agreeing, nodding, and listening as Linus told her about his real dream of being a palace healer. About how he would rather save lives than take them, how blood had always scared him when he was younger but he overcame that fear to try and help his father one night when the Captain had come home wounded. He even showed her his Oddish that sometimes helped with his studies.

When they at last parted because Linus had to go clean up the milk, Naomi found herself beginning to enter the East Wing. She was surprised at how much they had talked and walked, but soon resumed her thoughtful daze about the meeting earlier that day.

Her mind was a lot clearer, and she could think up more possibilities without them harassing her. She even almost forgot about the milk staining her gown.

Almost.

First off, Naomi wondered about the tournament.

Would that really solve their problems? What if by some odd chance someone incompetent passed all the tests? What if people rebelled because it was unfair?

Actually, what would the tests be? What qualities did the King need? Popularity? A steady judgment? Strong leadership? Strictness? Kindness?

Her head spun, so she moved to different matters.

She wondered about the plague.

What was the possibility that a mere plague could kill every single healer skilled enough to counter the symptoms? And then proceed to kill every single royal in line for the throne?

Very suspiciously close to zero, Naomi thought.

Yet it had still happened.

Even the least educated child in Sinnoa could tell that it was something to be cautious about. Most likely, it was some powerful human who wanted the throne for his own greedy ambitions.

Or it could be a girl, she added as an afterthought, remembering all the strong and brave heroines that had risen above many men in their times.

Naomi sighed again, her head pounding.

XXX

"—And so I must announce that I am greatly sorrowed by the loss of our noble, intelligent King and Queen!" the priest cried dramatically, half-swooning for the effect.

Adriana Sofyard yawned as the priest continued; she could tell why this priest had _not_ been chosen for the palace. He was far too boring and overexcited.

She leaned back on the old fence she perched on, staring at the sun that shone against all of their backs as they listened to the old geezer talk. Her Pokemon clamored around her squeaking and chirping incoherent noises as they all tried to get her attention.

Finally, she tilted her head downward as her Heracross fluttered into the air and tried to tackle her face. She stared at her Pokemon, and blinked.

Her Cherrim and Vileplume were pointing urgently at their food trays, empty save for a few crumbs which her Heracross lapped up when Cherrim and Vileplume weren't looking. Adriana sighed in exasperation.

Surely there was something more important to be bothered about!

But she smiled lovingly at her Pokemon as she reached for the mashed up berries—imported directly from Oran—to dump into their trays.

"I hope that they will be able to find each other, even in heaven, and watch over us!" the priest's words reached her again, shattering her good mood, "I hope that they will be able to guide us through the right path, and to success!"

"The only way we'll be successful is if he gets fired," Adriana whispered to her Wigglytuff. The pink Pokemon, called Kururu, nodded, and patted her head.

Then the voice changed, as if someone else was speaking.

"Order!"

Immediately, the idle shuffles of the civilians and the murmurs of the crowds ceased.

Adriana looked back at the priest just in time to see a man push him out of the way.

He stood straight and bold, like a head Luxray watching a hunt. His hair was blond, wavy and allowed to grow a bit more in the way of a noble. His eyes, though Adriana could not see their exact color, were commanding and fierce, just like every other feature she could notice. He wore slightly shining armor, and a large silver sword was strapped to his back.

A knight, she realized.

A cheer rose from the crowd, like they had all just realized who the man was. He raised a hand, and they hushed.

"Greetings, one and all, gentleman or lady, old or young," he began, "I am the Captain of the Guard."

"You all are aware of the certain tragedy that has befallen our land of Jota. You have come to gather here because of it, and for that very reason, us remaining nobles—as well as nobles from other countries come to help us—held a council. We have decided who our next King will be."

There was an intense silence. Even Adriana leaned forward with anticipation, but her Vileplume jumped up and pulled on her shoulder, causing her to fall ungracefully on her face.

"Or at least, we know how we are going to decide who our King shall be."

Adriana blinked. What had he just said?

"We have decided to hold a tournament, a tournament that allows everyone and anyone a chance..." he paused here, for his words to sink in, "to become King."

Or Queen, Adriana added in her mind, the winner could very well be a girl.

"Further details shall be announced when we decide them," the Captain called, "Registrations shall begin at noon, in the palace's Grand Hall."

Adriana glanced at the clock on the North Tower. Still 30 minutes to go.

She sighed and jumped off the ragged fence, which creaked in protest at the sudden change in pressure. Adriana gestured for her Pokemon to follow her as she made her way back towards the town.

Tournaments and nobility had no place for her, she thought.

XXX

And he watched from the highest tower of the palace this time, peering out a half-covered window. The crimson drapes shut out most of the sunlight, creating willowing shadows that lingered far too long on the gold and red carpets. The sun rays that did manage to creep past the curtains were stale and yellow, leaving crisp light shapes isolated among the darkness.

The faintest ghost of a smile touched his lips as he watched crowds of civilians line up for a chance at the throne. He was unfazed at their numbers; they had not had the proper training. They had not suffered through nearly as much. They could not relate to the feeling of a proper noble, and they definitely could not appeal to others of the same background.

A knock almost startled him and a maid rushed in carrying a feather duster. She blinked as she sized up his armor, sword, cape, and—

"Oh!" she cried, realizing that she had just disturbed a very powerful knight, a serious offense, "I'm so sorry! I had no idea; I only wanted to clean up!"

She rushed to leave, but he held up a hand and she froze.

Chuckling at her pale face in the darkness of the room, he told her, "It is fine. I was about to leave anyways. Keep doing a good job."

He walked past her and out the door, just as the maid bowed and murmured with her fist clenched tightly around the feather duster, "Yes, milord. Thank you, Lord of Mahogany."

**And I present you...Chapter 1! =D**

**And now I can't remember anything I told myself to put in this author's note. Dangit.**

**So, let's see.**

**The countries are divided into several territories that the nobles rule, which I might or might not post, depending on whether you guys want to know.**

**Also, you don't have to try and remember all of the nobles in the meeting up there. There'll be more time to introduce them slowly, so you can get used to them.**

**Well, I can tell you that yes, Naomi has caught on to something about the plague being man-made. But I can't tell you who, 'cuz that's the big mystery of this fic! Feel free to guess as the story moves on.**

**That being said, feel free to tell me who your favorite characters are too.**

**And...I have nothing else to say, really, except for please tell me what you think/what I can improve on!**

**Credits**

**Naomi Astari- Nicole Vermillion**

**Adriana Sofyard- ClinicallyInsaneAndDangerous**


	3. An Unfair Call

**Disclaimer- If you take a look at the Pokemon fandom, you'll see that it's very popular. That alone should tell you what I own. Nothing, since I wouldn't be able to make something that popular!**

"You did _what?!_"

Kelana Drae was simply outraged.

The three nobles in the Council room looked up at her, slightly gaping. Kelana knew her light brown hair was frizzy and tousled about thanks to her storming all across the palace as soon as she had overheard some of the tournament stages.

"Is it true," she demanded menacingly, "that you agreed that the first round preliminaries should only be required of females?"

If it hadn't been so unseemly, Kelana would have cracked her knuckles. The expression on her face could only be described as the work of the devil. Her brown eyes glinted with angry malice, and shadows outlined her face as she glared at the men.

"Now, now, Kelana," Felix tried to appease her, "Let's not go into hasty decisions. We decided that for the safety of the lovely young ladies. After all, it wouldn't do to have an overeager boy hurt one."

Ethan nodded, agreeing with every word the Captain uttered. He had long learned that an angry noblewoman was something to avoid no matter what.

Unfortunately, it only fueled the woman's anger.

"Why, yes, but it also wouldn't do to have those very young ladies whip your soldier behinds!" Kelana hissed, face red with fury.

"A proper lady should never lose her temper like that," Mattias said.

"A proper man should never cause a woman to lose her temper like that," Kelana retorted, "I refuse to allow you to insult the female heritage like this!"

"Kelana," Ethan pleaded, "Jota will be thrown into chaos if a woman rules them."

"Then let it! I'd like to see the looks on your faces if a woman does win!"

The Captain stood up and stared down at her small figure from his height. "Please, Kelana," he said; the authority dripping from his somewhat cold tone canceled out the effect of his well-meant courtesy, "You must think of more than your female pride, and see what is best for Jota."

"Get over your male pride before you start reprimanding me!" Kelana snapped as a knock sounded on the door.

An elderly man hobbled in. His hair was graying and lacking in certain parts of his head, and his face was covered in many wrinkles. He wore a light green tunic and beige breeches. A small gnarled cane with a blue orb embedded into the top was gripped tightly in one hand and held out to support him.

"Missus Kelana," he rasped, choking a little over his breath, "I-I would like a word with you."

"Sir Delray," Kelana sighed, "You shouldn't be out of bed at your age."

She ran a hand through her hair, and shot one last glower in the male nobles' direction. Then, she took the old man's hand and marched out of the room, practically dragging her companion along.

"That was scary," Ethan commented, only speaking when he was certain Kelana wouldn't be back to spit acid at them any time soon. Felix gritted his lips, nodded, and advised them to simply forget it.

After all, soon, they'd have to announce their decision. And face the wrath of not one angry lady, but a whole horde of them.

XXX

"You are a truly beautiful woman," Rhodrick Flanagan told a passing by lady. She giggled, flipping her blonde hair over a shoulder and flashed him a slight smile, though her green eyes showed her nervousness.

Rhodrick laughed heartily, patting his large belly in a good manner, "Don't worry, little lady, I wouldn't dare try to hurt you. I only wanted to tell you a very, very important beauty secret."

That did it. Her interest had been piqued, and she leaned in to listen.

"Do you promise to never tell anyone what I'm telling you now? Promise!"

"I promise," the woman whispered back, bouncing on her toes with excitement, "What is it?"

"Now," said Rhodrick, "You may not believe me, but I know the secret to perfect hair. Smooth, silky, a sexy wave; I know the secret to all of it."

She nodded eagerly.

"Now, have you ever seen Queen Jade? Have you seen how incredibly beautiful she is? The way her hair is both glossy and stunningly amazing, smooth yet wavy, with the exact amount of coloring to make it really glow?"

"Yes!" the girl squealed, "Her Majesty is very beautiful!"

"Well," Rhodrick whipped out a case from behind his merchant's stall, "This is the secret to it! I've travelled far and wide, to lands you can't even imagine, until I had finally discovered the secret to making such a hair conditioning that unlocks such glory! Even the Queen herself could not resist in buying it, and I am about to give you the chance to become as gorgeous as Lady Jade was!"

"I'll take it!" Her response was so sudden that even Rhodrick was surprised for a second.

"Excellent! I knew I had found a woman who truly understands what beauty means as soon as I laid eyes on you!" Rhodrick beamed, "Unfortunately, it is a bit pricey. Judging by your clothing, that will not be a problem?"

"No problem at all!"

"And," Rhodrick looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping and leaned closer to her, "I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about this...exchange. Other people might get a bit...jealous. They don't have to certain zeal that you carry."

She nodded.

"Excellent! Brilliant!" he exclaimed, "Simply marvelous! It was a pleasure doing business with you, young miss."

She giggled again before handing Rhodrick a very heavy, bulging sack of gold, and dashed off to try her newly acquired hair products.

Sighing, Rhodrick turned back to his stall, satisfied. To his dismay, he found a young girl sampling one of the leftover hair products.

The thief blinked, surprised at being caught so suddenly. She had short black hair, and bright blue eyes.

"This doesn't even work," she stated in her shock, "I think it's made of lotion and perfume."

Then Rhodrick yelled loudly, jumping backwards and pointing at her, "Hey, you! Thief!"

Startled into action, the girl jumped over his stall counter and raced down the street, knocking down several people in her desperate attempt to get away.

"Oh, no you don't! Vadigan, you get her back here!" Rhodrick cried.

A Swablu burst out of the extended Pokeball—Rhodrick didn't dare throw it, for fear of it being lost amongst the midday crowds—and chased after the black haired girl. Despite the girl's frantic efforts, Vadigan caught up with her easily and snatched her up. The thief was thrown back roughly as the Swablu head butted her in the stomach, and she fell backwards on the street.

By then, Rhodrick had caught up to them in spite of his lack of rush. He made his way in a nice stroll towards the scene that had attracted quite a crowd.

"Get up," he commanded the girl once he could loom over her menacingly, if only because she was sitting down.

The girl got up. She stared at him defiantly.

Rhodrick stared back, his arms struggling to remain crossed over his blubbery chest, though he did not show it. "March."

She marched. He directed her with carefully aimed jabs at her back with his chubby finger.

Once the girl sat in front of Rhodrick's stall, legs crossed and back slumped against the hard, wooden front, Rhodrick commanded, "Name."

The thief remained reluctantly silent, but the fat merchant prodded her with a toe, and she spat out a bitter, "Raven."

"Raven...?"

"Dashkov. Raven Dashkov." Her tone could've frozen a Ho-oh's flame.

"Well, my name's Rhodrick Flanagan," he said cheerfully, his face void of all contempt. Raven's expression changed from defiance to confusion, to even a bit of a scared frown.

She looked around for any help, but eventually had to turn her head to look at the fat merchant again, "And...you're telling me this because?"

"You don't know? Why, my dear," Rhodrick chirped, "You're going to be in my employment for quite some time!"

Raven spluttered an incoherent response, and then something along the lines of, "Wha--?! B-b-but, I--! I can't...No, but I--! Argh, listen you old geezer—I don't have the--!"

He cut her off, "Hush. You'll need to save your energy. Now, I'll need you to bring those baskets to my caravan over here..."

He waddle-walked down the streets. Raven, with nothing else to do, scooped up the baskets full of the fake hair products and raced after him.

"Hey! Hey, wait up, uh...Rhodrick! Sir Rhodrick!"

He paused only to call over his shoulder, "Just Rhodrick will do! Actually, call me Rhodri! All my friends do!"

XXX

Mirabelle Baldor swung her feet to one side of the Rapidash she sat on and peered at the messenger. He was around the age of 16, 3 years younger than her, and wore the attire of a squire. His blonde hair was grown out in the way that many knights wore it, and his forehead was beaded with sweat. Gripped tightly in his left hand was a scroll wrapped tightly with a golden ribbon and sealed with the royal Emblem of Jota.

"Mistress Mirabelle Alys Baldor, if I am correct?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and brushing the sweat off his brow, "I have a message for you. You have entered the tournament, yes?"

Mirabelle nodded, grinning cheekily as her green eyes flashed with undeniable pride. "Hm? Is it really starting already? For real? What's the first stage? What do I have to do?"

The squire squirmed away from the ivory haired girl who rocked excitably in her saddle. Her Rapidash shifted uncomfortably also, hanging its head in shame, as if embarrassed by the girl's antics.

He cleared his throat softly and whipped the scroll open. The golden ribbon fell into a graceful arc as the weight of gravity forced it down. Mirabelle listened with interest, though her anger spiked with each word. No one disturbed them.

"Lady Mirabell Alys Baldor of Sinnoa, the nobles of Jota have accepted you application for the tournament. However, you are neither a native of Jota, nor a noble. Furthermore, you are, in fact, female. For these reasons, you shall be forced to undergo the preliminary rounds. We need to know if you are truly capable of ruling our noble country."

"Fear not, however, the preliminary rounds are not at all difficult. It is naught but a series of questions for you to answer, which determine your ability to answer questions under pressure. The first of them can be located alongside this scroll."

"We wish you the best of luck. Signed, Felix Wright, Lord of Dala; Ethan Chambers, Lord of Misina; Kelana Drae, Lady of Sectris; Matthias Lance, Duke of Cretan; Verona Lance, Duchess of Cretan," finished the squire. He looked up to see Mirabelle's face, red from anger.

"I have to take the preliminaries because I am a _girl_?!" she screeched, glaring at the squire, "And the first round is a bunch of measly riddles? Are they toying with me?"

Her Rapidash snorted with disdain, flicking its wild mane towards the squire, who stepped back.

"I-I'm sorry, miss, but I'm sure it is so you don't hurt yourself against bigger men."

He was only digging himself a bigger hole.

"Are you suggesting," Mirabelle growled, jumping off her horse and glowering down at the boy, "that I would not win against a man because I am female?"

"No!" he rushed hurriedly with wide eyes. The poor squire threw the scroll at Mirabelle, along with the slip of paper containing the first question, and ran off.

"Most likely to find solace in his ma's arms," the girl snarled as she reached down to pick up the question. She also held out the scroll to her Rapidash. "You can eat it, if you want."

As the Rapidash munched on the crisp parchment, Mirabelle read the question.

_This monument was built by the second king of Jota._

Mirabelle blinked as her temper cooled. Was this a...history question?

She searched her memory, struggling to recall what her history teacher had taught her when she was eleven. She was fairly certain that the second king was the brother of the first, the founder of Jota. Or was that for Kantus? Oh, well, she thought.

Running up to a passing by village boy, she grabbed the sleeve of his T-shirt.

"Hey, who was the second king of Jota?" she asked.

The boy, more or less, laughed at her.

"Y-you don't know who the second king of Jota is? Ha! You must be very stupid, lady. Everyone knows who the second king was!" He continued laughing as he continued. Mirabelle glared after him. Stupid kid...

Mirabelle continued to walk along, her lip curled upward into a pout as she struggled to remember her history facts. Who would've known that that boring class would be of use? If she had known, she would've tried to listen!

Out of the corner of her eyes, Mirabelle noticed a flash of color. She turned her head in time to see another girl dash around the corner, a scroll in hand with a golden ribbon trailing behind her.

Without a second thought, she followed. With luck, this girl would be on the same question as Mirabelle, and she could just cheat the answer. After all, no one had told her she couldn't.

After a couple of minutes, Mirabelle's legs started to tire, but she didn't dare call out her Rapidash for fear of being spotted by the girl she was tailing. Eventually, though, a tall tower began to peak out from the horizon.

Soon enough, Mirabelle soon stood in front of the Brass Tower, though the girl she was following was nowhere in sight.

"Brass...Tower?" Mirabelle murmured questioningly. Oh, yeah! The second king built both the Brass Tower and the Tin Tower in honor of a silver and rainbow bird! How had she forgotten that?

A monk, with clean purple robes and a shiny shaven head, walked out and greeted her. "Hello, young one. Have you come to find your way? Or perhaps you wish to merely pay your respects to the divine silver bird, Lugia."

Lugia. The name rolled off of Mirabelle's tongue, more so than any other noble's names had ever done.

"N-no, thank you. I came to look for something," Mirabelle stammered. Though she was very confident in herself, she was afraid to offend the monk in the presence of the Tower. She had heard that the tower had had this effect on many other people too, so she wasn't too ashamed.

The monk smiled faintly, and bowed a bit, "I see. Not many people as young as you come to seek here. However, if you ask the Great Bird for help, I am sure that you will find your way."

"N-no. You don't understand. What I'm looking for, it's not--!"

The monk cut her off, "Please. You might find something that you need."

He stepped aside and led Mirabelle into the tower. Inside was just as beautiful as outside the Brass Tower, if not more. The monk led the girl to the back of the tower, and gestured towards the shrine built for Lugia.

"You merely need to ask. The Great Bird shall help you."

Mirabelle, with great effort, kept her mouth shut and crouched down in front of the shrine. Placing her hands together, she murmured, "Great Bird Lugia, I humbly ask for your aid in helping me with my task."

She bowed her head, and looked up again. Mirabelle was startled to be greeted by a barrage of sparkles. In fact, the whole shrine seemed to be glowing and shining in a way that Mirabelle had never imagined before.

However, the shining stopped just as the sun stopped streaming through the sky lights, but not before a deep, serene voice whispered in Mirabelle's ear, "Of course."

Startled again, the girl clenched her fists, only to hear the crackle of paper. She looked down to see a slip of parchment containing the second question in her hand.

Mirabelle whirled around to look at the monk, to see if he had known, but the monk had left long ago, and he had left no indication that he had ever really existed.

XXX

A girl peeked out of her window towards the alley below. Fighting noises—the sound of flesh on flesh—had been echoing out of the small alley for hours. Just now, however, she had heard a loud yell and the sound of a sword being drawn.

Down below, there was indeed a fight. Two teenagers advanced on a younger boy, about five years younger than them. The two teens wore ragged beige clothing; on had blonde hair cropped short and tan skin. His eyes were bright blue. His face would've been quite handsome, had his jaw not been set in a menacing grimace.

The other had brown hair, grown out past his shoulders and tied together with a thin red cloth. Dust and grime coated his broad hands and specked his face. His dark brown eyes held a more intelligent gleam than his companion's.

In a quick flash, the blonde lashed out at the younger boy with his fist, sending the boy sprawling across the ground.

The boy winced as his face made contact with the rocky floor, but he gritted him teeth and pushed himself up with much effort. Spitting out blood, the boy charged at the blonde, catching him by surprise. The boy drove the blonde backwards towards the other wall, before the brown-haired boy whacked him from behind.

"You little shrimp," the blonde snarled, "You dirty, scheming nobles!"

The boy smirked, though his face was in the dirt.

"You are upset for noble's blood," he whispered, getting a mouthful of dust in the process, "'Tis a sad day indeed, when the peasants envy their higher ups."

"Silence, you!" the brunette snapped, stomping on the boy's arm. He was rewarded by a satisfying cracking sound. "We'll say when you can speak."

"I shall not take orders from a servant's lowly son," the boy groaned, shifting a bit to find a more comfortable angle for his broken arm.

"You are in no position to—!" the blonde was interrupted by a sudden movement made by the noble boy. The boy flipped backwards in a miracle jump, and landed crouched. His newly broken arm was cradled in his good one, and his green eyes flashed dangerously like a Glameow's.

"You have never been in a position to do this, and neither shall you ever!"

"We shall see," the blonde boy laughed, stepping behind the brown haired boy.

"I apologize for this, milord," the brown haired boy said softly. From behind his back, he revealed something that made the young boy gasp.

Though it was blunt and rusty, a sword was a sword, and it was definitely a sword in the brunette's hand.

The boy raised the blade into the air until he only needed a single vertical strike to kill the young noble. The sword lingered there for another two seconds, before it was brought downward with incredible murderous intent.

Luckily, that two second hesitation saved the small boy's life.

A girl with blonde hair braided into two pigtails swooped in and parried the blow with a sword of her own. She feinted an attack, and the brown haired boy flailed to block it.

He obviously had no skill with a sword.

They exchanged a few blows again, forcing the girl's opponent backwards. The attacks were rapid and random, never expected until it was too late.

Then, the boy tripped over his companion as he tried to take another step back to dodge an oncoming blow. Though the swing slashed at the space where his head had just been, both boys fell quickly with bewildered expressions plastered on their faces.

Just as the girl touched the point of the blade to one of the boy's forehead, a horn blew. The hurried sound of hoof beats rounded the corner, and a man appeared on a Rapidash decorated with fancy royal armor.

"State your name and rank," he demanded coolly, his white mount shuffling for a good grip on the cobblestone.

"Amelia Spelman, sir," the girl answered automatically, dropping her sword hand and raising the other in a respectful salute, "My parents run the restaurant 'round here."

The two boys' eyes widened at the appearance of the man—whose shield indicated that he was a knight—and looked away, refusing to utter another sound. The young noble stood up, though, and brushed himself off the best he could.

"A tad late as always, Sir Felix," he said stiffly, before walking away. Felix stared after him, before turning his attention to the more pressing matters at hand.

Shooting a glance at the two boys that clearly read to stay put, he dismounted and walked up to Amelia.

"For a restaurant owner's daughter, you seem awfully familiar with the sword."

Amelia nodded, "Yessir. That's because I aim to be a Knight. I train every day, and I want to use this tournament to show that I have the skills to become one!"

Felix studied her gaze for a moment, before speaking. "You are aware that the skill isn't the only thing that makes a Knight. You must have motivation, talent, not to mention courage."

"I am determined to become a Knight."

"The path to Knighthood is not at all easy. You do not become a one overnight. You first have to become a page for about 4 years, and then a squire for 3. Only the best end up as Knights."

Amelia nodded again, "I intend to be the best."

"Very well then, Amelia Spelman. I, as Captain of the Guard, permit you to try your hand as a page. Should you not meet my expectations though, I will send you home as quickly as you came."

"I won't disappoint you, sir!" Amelia cried, trying to curtsy before remembering that pages bowed to their superiors. In the end, she ended up doing half of both and fell over.

As she left though, Felix turned back to the two boys with a hardened face.

"Now, I don't think I'm nearly half done with you boys yet..."

**And done! :D**

**I'm trying not to cram OCs in there, but if you think I'm leaving you behind, tell me so.**

**Same with if I get your OC portrayed wrong. Tell me what I need to do better.**

**And I've divided Jota into a bunch of different territories, and the nobles rule these territories:**

Misina- Present day Cherrygrove and New Bark Town

Cretan- Present day Goldenrod and Violet City

Dala- Present day Olivine and her bays

Sectris- Present day Azalea and Ilex Forest

Mahogany- Present day Blackthorn and Mahogany Town

**It isn't necessary to remember all of this, but if you want to, you can.**

**Credits**

**Rhodrick Flanagan- ShadowDragoon32**

**Raven Dashkov- PrettyRaveGirl3**

**Mirabelle Baldor- xEmilia**

**Amelia Spelman- DevoTheMadCashCow**


	4. Actor's Dream

**Disclaimer- I don't own Pokemon, or some of the OCs. The usual.**

Naomi Astari watched noiselessly as a page dropped off yet another stack of letters. All morning she had been leafing through her mail to identify the important newsletters from the hate mail. Most of the latter kind was from angry housewives protesting the recently announced preliminaries.

She picked up the letter that lay on the top of the pile and opened it. The writer obviously hadn't been schooled, the marking of a peasant. They hadn't even formatted the letter correctly!

_Womans have all the rights that mans do! It is completely not fair that only womans have to take the preliminarys! It is not right, and it is mean and evil!_

Naomi frowned, and then sighed. Couldn't these people get it through their thick skulls? It hadn't been her idea! Normally, she would've protested strongly along with these people, but Jota was not her country to protect. She would let the Jotan nobles decide whether they wanted a rebellion or not.

Picking up the stack, she skimmed through the titles quickly and was about to dump the whole pile out the window when a flash of color caught her eye. Curiously, Naomi set the letters down and reached for the tip of an envelope.

As soon as she looked at it, Naomi could tell that it was a fairly suspicious envelope. However, her interest had been piqued.

The envelope was bright, in comparison to the others' stale white shade. It was of orange hue, and sealed with the sticky dew that Combee often carry. There was no return address, nor a royal seal of sorts. It was in every which way just an envelope, save for the wacky coloring.

Shifting it to one hand, Naomi discovered that it was extraordinarily light. She decided that it was either safe, or hiding some new type of trap. The silver-haired noble woman considered tossing it along with the others, but her curiosity overcame her reasoning.

Nothing happened when she sliced the envelope open with a pocket knife. Deeming it safe enough, Naomi peeked inside and withdrew a small slip of parchment.

_Ecruteak Theater. 3:00 PM._

It was written in neat calligraphy with blue ink.

Was the sender telling her to meet him at the Ecruteak Theater? But why?

Naomi shook her head. It was too risky, especially with no return address. It might be a dangerous assassin or a thief.

Bu, her conscience argued, what if it was merely a person seeking help? A secret admirer? A Sinnoan spy?

The two sides of her argued continuously, as the long hand of the North tower clock inched closer and closer to the III.

XXX

Mirabelle raced through the roads of Ecruteak, focusing on the distant palace. She was on her fifth riddle, and if what she believed was true, it was the last one.

The riddle paper was clutched tightly in her hands as she urged her Rapidash onward towards the palace. Most of the words were hidden by Mirabelle's hand, but the whole statement still raced through the girl's mind.

_The end is hidden in the place where dreams come true._

Mirabelle grinned. This had been by far the easiest riddle. She had once read that a hallway in Jota Palace's West Wing was called the Wish Path. There was a legend that a spell had been placed on the hallway by a Pokemon called Jirachi. They said that if you took a stroll down Wish Path, you would see illusions of your greatest desires.

It was Wish Path that Mirabelle rode towards now.

A cart tipped over in her path, spilling vegetables everywhere on the road. Mirabelle's Rapidash whinnied with panic, veering off the road and nearly colliding with a building off to the side. Mirabelle was almost kicked off her mount, and she lost control. In a struggle to regain footing, she pulled on her Rapidash's reigns, pulling the fire horse out of the main road and into an empty courtyard.

Dismounting, Mirabelle rubbed her Rapidash's forehead in an attempt to soothe the panicked Pokemon. The horse moved to pull away, but reluctantly submitted to her petting. Then, the Rapidash nudged her owner until Mirabelle turned to look at the direction the horse was urging her towards.

A young boy with messy reddish brown hair was crouched in a corner, peeking into a cracked window. He had his back turned to them, and Mirabelle couldn't see his face, but she could easily see that he was definitely not supposed to be there.

Silently, she crept up to him, being careful not to attract his attention. She peered over his shoulder, making sure not to breathe on him or anything.

"Boo," Mirabelle whispered when her mouth was right next to his ear in the most toneless, secretive tone she could muster. It must have worked, because the boy jumped way into the air and whipped around.

Now, Mirabelle got a better glance at him. He was young, around 11 years of age. His hair was mussed up, falling over his face. His eyes were brown, sparking with childhood curiosity. His skin tone was tan, but Mirabelle could see the barest tinge of pink flushing against his cheeks.

A yell sounded from inside the building. The boy's jump of surprise had attracted the attention of a man inside the building.

The boy rushed past her, as the occupants of the building ran over to the cracked window. Startled, Mirabelle did the best thing she could think of. She ran after him, her Rapidash struggling to keep up with them.

"Stop, you!" Mirabelle shouted. "There, little boy! Get back here!"

Her longer strides catching up to the boy's short ones, Mirabelle tackled the boy into the ground.

"And stay down!" she sniffed in triumph, "What's your name?"

The boy flushed red again, ashamed to be beaten by a girl, even if she was so much older than him. He looked down, rather than meeting her eyes. His reply was reluctant, edged on by her staring at him. "Damion."

"Damion, eh?" Mirabelle grinned, looking down at him from her perch on his back.

"Mhph," he replied.

Getting off of Damion, Mirabelle stood up and began to rock on her heels, absentmindedly stroking her Rapidash also.

"So," she began casually, "What was that building? Why were you spying on it?"

"I wasn't spying!" Damion cried indignantly, "I was watching! Secretly!"

Mirabelle nodded like she agreed with him, though it was clear that she was only doing it for his comfort. "What were you doing there?"

"It's the Ecruteak Theater," Damion admitted, "I was watching all the actors. I do it every day after school, and they never once caught me. Until you came along, that is."

Mirabelle gave him a cheeky grin. "Sorry that you obviously can't stand my radiant gorgeousness."

She tugged at his cheeks, laughing. Damion stuck out his lower lip in a pout. "It's not funny! I'm gonna be an actor when I grow up, and that's that!"

"Unless," Mirabelle reminded him, "they saw your face just then, and are convinced you are a thief or something."

"Unless that," Damion sighed, "which would be your fault!"

Mirabelle laughed again. "Oh, however can I make it up to you? Shall I perhaps use my brilliant persuasive influences to snatch you a job, and cause those actor men to swoon and fall at my feet?"

Damion made a face. "Sure, though I'd be especially grateful if you _did_ manage to snag a job for me. Even if you fail, one of these days I'll win them over."

"Whatever you say," Mirabelle sang knowingly, pushing Damion forward and forcing him into a jog. She ran after him after returning her Rapidash.

As the theater came into view, Damion slowed down, his cheerful expression replaced with a much more serious and worried one. His lips were pushed together in a thin line, and a bead of sweat ran down his forehead.

"Damion, Damion, Damion," Mirabelle chided, "If asking for a job worries you, how will you ever work up the nerve to perform in front of a crowd?"

"'Cuz I'm a natural at acting!" Damion said, "Not asking people for things. And don't call me Damion; it sounds old. I like Dee better."

"Dee is a girl's name," Mirabelle teased, earning another blush from the boy.

"Is not," he muttered in protest, folding his arms as Mirabelle pushed him into the courtyard.

They strode steadily back towards the cracked window. The actors had already retaken their places, and begun to rehearse again, but as Dee peered into the shattered glass, one of the nearby actors—the one who had seen him before—cried out in alarm, "There he is again!"

The next scenes happened so quickly in Damion's mind. There was a flash of movement; everything blurred as the actors disassembled and scrambled to the window. Then, a series of voices shouted out, some angry and others concerned or curious or accusing.

But Mirabelle fought off the actors verbally, shooting down questions with empty answers until all Damion was aware off was a group of eyes staring eagerly at him. His shoulders weighed down with the pressure of their gazes, their curiosity, and his own nervousness.

"Damio—Dee," Mirabelle corrected herself, and Damion flushed as she prodded his back. "He has something to ask of you."

Their eyes were on him. He flinched back at the large array of diverse colored eyes. When he had been watching them, he'd never noticed how much the actor's differed from each other.

There were older actors, even men in their 50s, to younger actors in their late teens. There were some with brown eyes, some with red eyes. Some had bright, curious eyes, seemingly eager to learn; others with wise, sharp eyes, quick to notice and criticize. Their hair colors were in a wide range also, from turquoise, to purple, to brown, to black. Some were tall, and others were almost Damion's height!

Seeing the diversity of the actors built up Damion's diminishing courage. If all of them had succeeded in the acting industry, who was to say he couldn't also? He had the talent, and he had the motivation. Combined, the two could work wonders.

"I was—I was wondering if maybe..." His voice was hoarse with a strange mixture of hoarseness and hope.

"Speak up, boy," commanded one of the older actors, "'Can't hardly hear you."

"I was wondering if you would accept me into the theater!" Damion practically yelled in response, "I promise I'll be good, and I won't break anything, and I'll try my bestest, and I'll never disobey nothing!"

The group of actors shifted uneasily, ripples of murmuring chorusing through their ranks. Damion and Mirabelle exchanged glances; the former nervously biting his lip. The actors looked him over, their eyes seemingly cold and never missing anything. Their expressions never changed, lingering in between disapproval and apathy.

Finally, one of the veteran actors grunted. "If you wish, we will see. First, we must see if you have the ability to act with us. Come."

Silently, a woman opened the door. She was wearing considerably less quality clothes, and carried a broom. A maid.

Damion and Mirabelle entered the theater uncertainly. The former couldn't decide whether to be cautious about the test, or elated that they had even considered accepting him.

"Now," the veteran actor said, "My name is Otto Raisman."

He bent down in a bow, taking Mirabelle's hand and kissing it in a badly messed up imitation of a noble. The ivory haired girl, however, was unimpressed. She remained in a business-like state, eagerly waiting for the end of the drama. After all, she still had to pay a visit to Wish Path afterward.

"Mirabelle Baldor," she said stiffly, not faltering, "And this here is Damion."

"Kerchner," the boy murmured, "Damon Kerchner."

"A pleasure, Mistress Baldor, Damion," said Otto, his eyes settling on Dee. "Would you like to hear your task as an actor in training?"

Otto nodded to one of the actors. Another man, closer to Mirabelle's age this time, stepped up. He had glossy ebony hair and glittering green eyes. His mouth was curved into the faintest of smiles. His expression was touched by a ghost of arrogance and wisdom, a mixture that Mirabelle hadn't thought possible.

"They call me Aldous." His voice was tinged with a strange accent, deep and knowing.

"You, you aren't a native of Jota, are you?" Mirabelle inquired.

"I was born in Sectris, but raised in Oran," he replied. Mirabelle nodded solemnly; he hadn't had the look of a foreigner.

"You have to act out this scene with me," Aldous was saying, "You are a village woman in a marketplace. Suddenly, a thief—me—bumps into you and takes something of personal importance. Your reaction?"

"N-now?" Dee exclaimed.

"That's not fair," Mirabelle protested, "You didn't give him any time to practice! You didn't even give him a script!"

Aldous regarded her coldly. "You seem to think that acting is merely reciting words off of a script. But what if you mess up? You need to be able to improvise! The best of actors only rely on improvising!"

Around them, the actors nodded solemnly. Mirabelle opened her mouth to say it was too much to ask of such a young boy, but Damion flashed her a small smile.

"I'll do it. And I'll succeed too," he murmured reassuringly.

Aldous stepped up quickly, rudely colliding into Dee's small frame. The black haired man's eyes widened slightly, the exact image of surprise etched on Aldous's face.

"Oh, I am _so_ sorry." His tone was light, surprised, and Mirabelle almost missed his hand reaching into Damion's pocket. Out it went, a second later, along with a small silver ring. Damion caught a glimpse of its silver sheen.

"H-hey! That's me father's--!" he shouted, startled.

Aldous merely winked in Mirabelle's direction. She blinked, and stepped away. Aldous turned away from her and raced across the theater.

It took Dee a second to realize what was happening. Then, he turned a shade redder, tearing through the wall of actors that had formed in his daze to observe how he would react. The young boy burst out of the crowd, his brown eyes darting around to locate Aldous.

When his gaze finally settled on the older man, Damion forced his feet to move. The dark-haired man had his back turned to Dee, seemingly browsing through a well-placed clothings' rack from their rehearsal.

"Hey, you! Thief! Gimme that back. Yes, you!" Damion bellowed in an attempt to sound commanding. Aldous's eyebrows shot up.

"My, my. Do all of this generation's ladies sound like bulls?"

Damion froze, Aldous's words finally sinking in.

"_You are a village woman..."_

His mind raced. How could he take advantage of his blunder? Should her hurriedly take it back? Stammer out an apology? Blush and turn away? Come to think of it, Damion wondered, how in the world _did _girls act? He had not yet reached the age where he took notice of how the other gender acted. They were just...there. Girls. Sewing and cooking and washing clothes and doing whatever else girls did, while boys practiced chivalry, swordplay, and acting.

Besides, wasn't interaction with girls _yucky?_ How should he have known the knowledge would prove useful? Girls didn't act.

A moment of intense silence passed between them. The curious expression on Aldous's face seemed more and more genuine with each passing second.

Finally, Damion opened his mouth.

"How _dare_ you?!"

The words exploded out, a tone higher than Dee would've liked, just as his hand flew out involuntarily and slapped Aldous across the cheek. Aldous, normally cool and calm, winced away, appearing stricken.

Damion smiled sweetly in return, the grin he used after he had been spotted slipping certain powerful liquors into the royal family's horses' troughs and needed to escape punishment.

Aldous stared.

And stared.

And stared into Damion's face, his expression an unreadable mixture of curiosity, surprise, and admiration. Then, Aldous of Sectris burst out in laughter, his shoulders visibly shaking. One by one, the other actors joined in. Damion looked up into Otto Raisman's smiling face as the veteran actor clamped a warm and welcoming hand on his shoulder.

Mirabelle grinned as Damion relaxed as he jokingly explained that the only reason he had acted that way was from his own mother's viciousness when he had been brought home by a soldier after being caught in the middle of a prank. The ivory haired girl edged towards the door. Her work here was done, wasn't it? She still had to go to Wish Path and complete the preliminaries. After all, she had already completed her promise in ensuring that Damion would get a job at that theater.

She stopped when Damion pulled away from the group of actors and walk towards her. He took her hands in his, smiling.

"I've been accepted," he said softly, the joy and pride evident in his eyes, "And it's all thanks to you. Thank you, Mirabelle."

Mirabelle nodded mutely, her eyes shifting from him to the door.

"Thanks to you, my dream has finally come true!"

Mirabelle moved to nod again, but froze in the middle of her action. Inside her mind, the words raced back and forth through her head.

_Thanks to you, my dream has finally come true._

_My dream has come true._

_Dream...true..._

"True," she croaked. Mirabelle yanked her hands out of Damion's and scrambled to find the last clue again.

_The end is hidden in the place where dreams come true._

"Could it be that...?" Mirabelle wondered. She felt Otto's gaze on her, and she lifted her head to meet his eyes. Slowly, ever so slightly, he nodded. His expression told the story.

Very good. You may go home and rest now, it said. Mirabelle smiled in relief and gratitude.

For her, the preliminaries were finally over.

XXX

Naomi watched, puzzled, as the actors inside of the theater celebrated. Supposedly, she gathered as she watched them crowd around the youngest boy of their group, they had recently added a new member to their numbers.

She stared oddly at the letter in her hand. It was 3 o'clock. She was sure of that. So why hadn't the mysterious sender come to meet her? Wasn't that what the letter had been for?

Naomi turned towards the theater again. Was the sender one of the actors? Not likely. Nothing suspicious could be seen from her point of view.

She pondered the thought for a while, for the sake of having something to do, and then discarded it. The idea of conspiring actors was silly. She was probably being paranoid. The letter was most likely a prank.

But, for a prank, the letter had been horribly fancy. Would mischief lead someone to sacrifice such money to buy ink and a calligraphy pen? They were both expensive.

Frowning, Naomi turned away from the theater and strode back to the palace.

XXX

The night sat at a small, round coffee table today, staring at a game board. He was not alone. Another man sat across from him, his game opponent.

"I don't get the objective of this game!" the other man cried in exasperation. He threw the game piece he had been holding at the ground and crossed his arms across his chest, frustrated. He had short red hair and one visible light crimson eye. The other was heavily bandaged, and a spear rested on the back of his chair, the sharp tip pointed up.

"To capture the other person's castle," the knight said patiently, as he had explained the last seven times the other man had shouted out in confusion. "It is very simple, Takimi. Each player has a castle, 2 pawns, a knight, and a king."

"The pawn can only move one space in any direction. The knight can move two, and the king can move 5 spaces, but only every other turn. The castle remains stationary on your side of the board. Your goal is to surround the castle with all four of your pieces to the North, South, East, and West sides."

"I get that," the other man, Takimi, sighed. "But I don't see the _point_ of the game."

"War strategy," the Knight said.

Takimi cocked his head, "You sure about that? It seems slightly irrelevant. In war, not only do you have to surround the castle, but you also have to force the opposing team into submission. Also, wouldn't you be allowed more troops, and be able to kill the other team's troops?"

The Knight grinned eerily, "In war, yes. Other times, however, circumstances do not allow you such privileges. Often, you find yourself in a tight spot, and not your foes."

Takimi sighed again, moving a pawn forward. "What's the name of this game again?"

"A brilliant Knight invented it long, long ago for strategic and entertainment purposes. Since, it has been popular in the ranks of the militaries," the Knight said, moving his last piece—a king—into position and surrounding Takimi's castle, "For that reason, they call it _'Knight's Game._"

**Special Thanksgiving (for those of you who celebrate it today) update! If you don't, then you get a free update. Win/win situation. :3**

**(I was scared that it'd be a special Day-after-Thanksgiving update, but I pulled through for you guys.)**

**And now that I've finally reached the author's note, I find that I've forgotten what I had to say. Oh, well. We're moving along steadily with our plot, though this might not seem very important. I'll say that this is the first stepping stone in our plot, but you won't see what I mean until later on.**

**Tell me what you think~ Did you like it? Hate it? Anything I could improve on? Did I completely leave you behind in the dust and you have no idea what happened?**

**Credits**

**Naomi Astari- Nicole Vermillion**

**Mirabelle Baldor- xEmilia**

**Damion Kerchner- suvi-sisko**

**Takimi- mangafreak7793**


	5. True Heir

**Disclaimer- I do not own Pokémon, neither am I the creator—or claiming to be—of quite a few of the OCs in this story. Credits below.**

_Right lunge, upper thrust, roll, sidestep, block, duck and strike..._

Amelia Spelman tried to run through her morning page trainings, though sweat poured down her brow as she attempted to ignore the _annoying_ gaze of a poorly hidden man.

He had stumbled upon her practicing right when the clock had struck its seventh hour—it was on its eighth now—and had stayed there since, never moving from his perch amongst the daisies.

From her peripheral vision, Amelia could see that he was around his thirties, and handsome. He knew it too, she noted, from the way he had carefully combed his dark brown hair to the side. Amelia guessed that he was a nobleman. A wealthy nobleman, from his fancy attire—the golden circlet that wrapped around his forehead down to the white cape rimmed with Flaaffy fleece. Amelia's eyes widened the smallest fraction of an inch as she saw the shield he carried. Despite the Seviper insignia engraved in its surface, meaning cunning and ambitious, she could not keep a slight wisp of respect from showing on her face.

As a page, Amelia could not ignore a Knight. "Sire? Do you require something?"

The Knight gave her a smile, pearly teeth peeking out from slightly parted lips. "No. I do not. I am very contented watching this generation's only female page."

Amelia nodded grimly, fully aware of the rarity for a girl to take up Knight training. "And who might you be, milord? My name is Amelia Spelman, lady page."

"You may address me as Torin of Mahogany," the Knight told her. He did not move from his position, nor did he portray any desire to continue their polite conversation.

Unnerved, Amelia tried to turn her mind back to her training. Her sweaty hand gripping the spear tightly, she lunged to her right and tumbled out of the way of an imaginary enemy's counterattack. Then, she swiped the blade of her lance towards the foe's legs in a sweep that would knock any man's feet from under him.

She got to her feet, not taking her gaze off of her make believe opponent, and feeling incredibly giddy as possible tactics towards victory raced through her head.

Amelia sidestepped to the right as her enemy walked to his own right. Then, they continued to circle, eyes locked and bodies crouched into a ready condition. She was about to pounce like a lioness on her prey, when Amelia's ears picked up the distinct rustle of cloth, and the sound of metal against sheath.

The lady page scrambled forward for what she feared was her life, banishing her make belief opponent from her mind. Turning her head, she barely was able to register the Knight behind her before the hilt of his sword collided with her head.

Falling, Amelia grabbed a Pokéball from her belt, disguising it as a very unprofessional flail. As she stumbled to the ground, she called, "Rex, cover for me!"

A Tropius exploded from his ball with a flurry of flapping wings as he attacked the Knight's face in an attempt to drive him away from his trainer. Rex snorted, rearing on two stubby hind legs.

Torin's eyes widened, and his hand twitched towards his sword. Still, he didn't show any other indication of harm or attack. Slowly, Amelia raised her hand to halt Rex's series of attacks on the Knight.

The Knight smiled. "It is very unusual to teach pages counterattacking so early, especially counterattacking a Knight."

Amelia said nothing.

"Or maybe," Torin continued, "_you_ are the unusual one?"

"I-I taught myself." Amelia wasn't sure where he was going with this. Torin smiled at her, the eerie grin that successful people get when they have accomplished something very, very great.

"I thought so. Well met, Page Amelia." Torin gave her an acknowledging nod that Amelia would have cherished at any other time, and left. Amelia shivered. It was always creepy when nobles got modest and respectful.

She shrugged it off. The Knight would get over it soon, hopefully. If he didn't, Amelia didn't want to think about that, or the meaning of his parting smile.

Sighing over certain stupid nobles and their hidden motives, Amelia returned to her practicing.

_Right lunge, upper thrust, roll, sidestep, block, duck and strike..._

XXX

"What did you say?" Naomi glared at older noble and simply _daring_ him to repeat what she thought she had heard.

"Jota already has a legal heir," the Captain of the Guard squeaked, appearing very much small next to the enraged, shorter girl.

Naomi suppressed a snarl; it was very un-noble-like. "And," she demanded, "why was I not informed of this earlier? You said everyone in line for the throne had died!"

"W-well," Felix stammered, feeling grateful that he had asked for a private audience with the Sinnoan noblewoman so that no one would see him get his hide whipped and handed to him on a royal platter. "I only said that everyone _planned_ for the throne had died, save for Garret Mahogany, the late King's nephew. See, Garret's brother still lives. I didn't speak up because...uh, Torin Mahogany was never supposed to inherit the crown. Ever."

Naomi didn't take her glower off of him.

"Torin was a very, uh, _special_ man. He trained as a Knight the same as his brother, but he didn't have the heart that a monarch, or just a noble, should have. He was always a bit shady in his works, but he was efficient. Very efficient, which is the only reason why he was kept alive. You aren't aware of it because you aren't a native, milady, but there used to be rumors about him. He was speculated to be...to be...ah, _mad. _Crazy. Demented. Over wanting of the Jotan throne."

"You didn't want to tell me," Naomi said flatly. "You thought that I would tell the other nobles, and bring down Jota's reputation."

"Well, yes. You are very sharp, Naomi of Sinnoa," Felix told her grudgingly. "Not even some of Jotan nobles were aware of him. They thought he accompanied his brother and disappeared alongside him. They are wrong though; Torin of Mahogany showed up about five months ago with no memory of his brother's journey. No memory of his brother at all, actually."

"That's insane. The only way he could have been telling the truth was if he suffered some mental injury," Naomi retorted swiftly.

The Captain smiled grimly; bitterly. "I wish that was the case. No, Torin arrived in full health. And he told the truth. Our mind readers confirmed that. The only possible explanation would be..." He lowered his voice considerably. Naomi strained to hear the next words. "...if the rumors were true. If he really was crazy."

"So he's crazy," the Sinnoan lady stated coolly, not stopping to think. The next two words rushed out before she could stop them. "So what?"

"So what? _So what?_ With Garret gone, Torin is the sole heir of the throne!" Felix exclaimed. "And if he truly is mad, so much the worse!"

The risk of failure snapped Naomi back to her senses. If Torin was to become King, and he ruined Jota, she would return home a failure. And if Torin was King, that spelt something bad for Jotan citizens. She would not accept that, but surely there was a way out.

"Don't crown him," she suggested.

"I wish it were that easy," Felix groaned. "Oh, I shouldn't have said anything. I wouldn't have told you at all, but suddenly, Torin is becoming a lot more active. He's spent the last couple of months in isolation, so I thought it was going to be okay. Not anymore. He's becoming interested in castle affairs now. Why, only yesterday, he asked me about our castle's pages!"

"I know nothing of the man!" Naomi snapped, offended by his displeasure and disappointment. "Why would you expect me to know how to solve every single one of your problems?"

"I don't."

Their rising voices had apparently attracted the attention of outsiders. A knock sounded on the door.

"Is there a problem?" came a confident, yet somehow sly sounding voice. Felix silently identified it as the voice of Torin Mahogany, the very man they had been discussing.

Cursing mentally, he excused himself from Naomi and slipped away, muttering, "Speak of the devil and he will come."

Torin opened the door, under Naomi's steady gaze, and strode in, every bit of arrogant as he had sounded. Naomi instantly disapproved, despite his handsome appearance. She hoped he had a trashy disposition; it would make disliking him that much easier.

"No problem," Naomi sniffed, looking away.

"Why, my lady, your obvious contempt disheartens me as much as your beauty lifts my soul," said Torin smoothly, swooping down to kiss her hand.

Naomi pursed her lips to prevent herself from wrinkling herself. She absolutely loathed noble pleasantry, but doing so would be terribly rude and Naomi still had a very high view of herself. She would not like doing something so low.

"Your flattery is unwelcome," she said instead, struggling to keep her voice low and empty.

Torin's expression—a slight curve of the lip that might be mistaken as mocking—betrayed little of his thoughts, and he kept his silence with an air of experience. Naomi couldn't help but wonder about the condition of such a country where one must learn to keep his trap shut to survive.

"I heard that you have become interested in a noble's affairs," she began, in the noble drawl that wealthy women used when talking about casual topics.

Torin dipped his head in a little, modestly. "Of course. Is that not the proper duty of a man?"

Naomi scowled at him. "Don't talk to me in that manner. I will not think very well of a country whose heir has a head full of trash and prejudice! As a representative of Sinnoa, neither will my country and you know very well that Jota has depended on Sinnoa for the last 50 years."

"Alas, the last 50 years has been the reign of my uncle. I have not been trained as my uncle has. If I am to rule Jota, I will not need support from the other countries. No, Jota will rise on its own, using its own power and resources."

Naomi blinked from the bitter tone in his voice. "You do not want to rule," she said, perplexed.

"I do not," repeated Torin firmly.

Without knowing why, Naomi found herself quite pleased. Wasn't she thinking just moments ago how Torin should not be on the throne? And here he was, agreeing with her.

"Is that so?" she replied airily, being careful not to sound too excited.

"It is."

"Then we can continue with this little tournament...to decide another ruler?" Naomi asked tentatively.

Torin smiled eerily, a smile that Naomi decided she never wanted to see again—especially on a man who was speculated to be crazy. "Of course. It would be quite counterproductive to crush all of this so early."

The Sinnoan noblewoman was not sure that she would have used the word 'counterproductive' to describe the situation. Still, she nodded as if she agreed. There was certainly no harm in doing so, and all too much to gain.

"I have also heard that you are only recently becoming active in life. And that the majority of Jota's population are not aware of your survi—existence," Naomi corrected herself.

"Very much so," Torin replied slickly. Naomi raised an eyebrow at him, and stared, urging the man to say more. Unfortunately for her, he was not the type to be pulled into speaking merely by prolonged silences, and continued to look away comfortably.

Naomi pursed her lips in frustration. Of course. Isn't it natural that the madman is immune to her best attempts of getting him to speak? So many normal folk could be jolted into spilling information simply by remaining silent.

She decided to get her information elsewhere. The noblewoman didn't want to attract his suspicion this early yet. She had read somewhere that the mentally insane were physically stronger than they should be, and more cunning too.

"It was very pleasant to make your acquaintance, sir," Naomi said humbly, curtsying as best as she had been taught.

"Must we stop at acquaintances?" Torin asked innocently. "If we were to get to know each other...After all, I am sure it will be worthwhile to have alliances within our countries."

Naomi smiled nervously, stepping back and cursing herself silently. Could he be on to her? Was he suspicious, or was his invitation merely of good nature? "Maybe next time, my lord."

She ducked out of the room, closing the door discreetly behind her. Then, checking to make sure no one was watching her, she fled out into the gardens. Naomi secured a spot behind a cluster of lilies and a bed of tulips, where it would be impossible for anyone to notice her without looking hard. A bench was lain out too, most likely a spot for young lovers.

There, Naomi plopped down, weary despite having done almost no physical work. She was tired, but her mind refused to relent spewing out thoughts.

Had the Lord Torin suspected her? If he had, of what? Naomi was fairly certain she would make a poor enemy against the nobleman. She hadn't made any unnecessary inquiries, she hoped. And besides, what did Torin need to hide so badly as to be wary of Naomi? Certainly nothing. But she had no way of knowing. Torin was a man of mysteries, his thoughts shielded to everyone. From experience, Naomi knew that those types of men were the most dangerous kinds.

And if Torin _did_ have something to hide, and he _did_ suspect Naomi of prying, what course of action should she take? She would not turn tail and flee back to Sinnoa. Well, the girl decided, if it came to that, she would fight back, of course. Whatever the madman had to hide was most likely not good for Jota.

Contented for the time being, Naomi leaned back to relax, and almost fell off the bench she had forgotten she was sitting on. Flailing to regain composure, she closed her eyes. It had been a while since she had had the opportunity to rest.

XXX

Most would describe Sarixa Koteri as a demon child.

From her wild appearance to her wacko personality, they were very right. Her eyes were naturally violet, but her left one was blind—white. Her ripped clothing discouraged normal folk from befriending her. Her matted hair appeared brown, but that and the several other streaks of color were only the result of years of dust build up. Her left hand shone, though, with flashy gemmed rings, most likely acquired through illegal means.

Still, Rixa was young, and very much childish.

This was the reason that Rixa sat perched on the rickety fence that surrounded the palace in the back, waiting for her employer. She wasn't left alone for long. A tall boy with brown hair and eyes, looking as normal as normal could get, walked up from behind her. He certainly didn't have the appearance of someone who interacted with criminals. Rixa hadn't even registered his entrance before the boy had leaned over and whispered, "Are you ready, Sarixa?"

The girl pouted. "I've already told you not to call me by my full name, Chandler."

The boy, Chandler, shrugged. "And I've told you not to call me by my last name. I told you to refer to me as Felix. Fe-lix."

Rixa made a face, though much good-heartedly. "Felix reminds me too much of the Captain of the Guard. His name is Felix also." She grinned, remembering how many times she had escaped the Guard's wrath.

"I've heard," Felix grumbled. "The Jotans haven't let me forget it ever since I left my home in Kantus."

"So, what brings you to summon me here? What tasks do you have of me this time, Chandler?" Rixa asked.

Felix scowled. "Impatient as always, Sarixa."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Anyways, Sarixa, as you well know, the true tournament starts tomorrow. Did you successfully manage to pass the preliminaries?"

"Of course, I passed the stupid round with _flying colors_, if I do say so myself. I even might have picked up a nice chunk of information or two."

"Such as?" Felix prompted.

"Oh, I might have had a friend in the kitchens who found out today that Jota really does have an heir, or I might have heard in the libraries that said heir is a madman," Rixa said airily.

Felix considered this. "Okay, spill. You will not go unrewarded for your efforts."

"I'm not interested in money right now," Rixa said pompously, wriggling her fingers to show off the glittering jewels. "What I want right now is some fun."

The brown haired boy didn't stop to think of what Rixa would consider 'fun' to be. He didn't want to. "I've maybe a _fun _assignment for you..."

"The heir's name is Torin of Mahogany," the criminal girl said, deciding that she would not gain at all from withholding the information. "He is the younger brother of Lord Garret of Mahogany, who vanished a couple of years back on a journey."

Felix cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Yes, yes, I already knew that. Cut to the good part already. What did you find out?"

"Who's impatient now?" Rixa accused mischievously, ducking to dodge when Felix half-heartedly swiped at her. "You wouldn't know this, but rumors in the lower streets of Jota say that this Torin figure is mad. Not the angry sort of mad, mind you; they say he's crazy. Demented."

She continued, "The nobles are being split up because of the tournament. For some reason, my little informant says, the dinners together are always very tense, especially now since Mahogany has joined their ranks."

"Wait, what are these nobles like? Do you know?" Felix interrupted.

"Of course I know," Rixa said. "Let's see, there's the Lord of Dala, Felix Wright. He's very powerful on both the battlefield and in politics. A lot of people like him, and they trust him a lot. A strong ally, but I wouldn't count too much on it. As a Knight, he is bound to the King."

"From Misina, there's Lord Ethan Chambers. He's good looking, but I think he's very shallow. Don't trust him further than you can throw him; he'd be easy for someone of my caliber to manipulate him."

"Which isn't much," Felix muttered.

Rixa pretended to not hear him. "Lady Kelana rules Sectris. I like her. She's known to have fun ways for revenge." The girl grinned sadistically, and Felix could see that he would have to be very careful not to get on the wrong side of Kelana.

"The Lances are in charge of Cretan—Duke Mathias and Duchess Verona, that is. Powerful at court, and definitely not someone you would want as an enemy. Well, I wouldn't really mind. They are slightly cruel, which is exactly what I look for in a victim. I heard they had a son and a daughter, but no one would talk much about them. Their son was an ambassador, called Nicolai Lance, who traveled to Kantus. Their daughter...I dug up a name, but I forgot it. Jenina? Gemma? No...what was it?"

She scrunched up her face, thinking hard. "Can't recall it," she announced at last. "Couldn't find any information on her at all, actually, save her name."

"Which you conveniently forgot," sighed Felix. "Never mind. You did well."

"You said you would have some fun for me now," Rixa sang happily, swinging back and forth on the fence. The portion she sat on collapsed under the movement, and the girl fell.

"Owwie."

Felix rubbed his temples. Why did his best informant have to be so...so...He couldn't find a word foolish enough for her. Still, Sarixa was very useful for his purposes. "Yes, I have some 'fun' for you, Sarixa. I need you to continue your part in the tournament, and eliminate the participants you deem to be unfit to rule Jota. I trust your judgment enough to hope that you won't go on a mad killing spree, hm? Here, take this."

Felix handed the girl a poorly crafted Apricorn Pokéball. "This is Golbat. His Supersonic will come in handy in tight situations. I still expect you to find out as much information for me as you can. It will not go unrewarded."

"Of course," Rixa said sweetly. "I've found that I can get into the most fun when I hang around you. I won't leave until I find someone else to bother."

"Very well, Sarixa. You may go," Felix told her, mildly amused.

XXX

It was sundown.

The room was unorganized. The table had a board game resting on it, the pieces settled in a disorderly fashion. The chairs were pushed apart from the table, previously occupied by two people who had already left and not thought to push the stools back in. The curtains hung askew, orange light beaming through the cracks in between the cloth.

And, although the room bore signs of a human recently living in it, there was no one there now.

**Haha, so now the Knight guy has left his little room and is moving about, disrupting palace life. The question is, what is he doing?**

**Again, if you've anything on your mind, don't hesitate to tell me! I would love to hear your opinion on the fic, and it's nice to know what I can improve on. Being the author of it, I am no competent judge, which is why I have to rely on you guys to tell me if you enjoyed it or not. Happy readings! =)**

**I'd like to thank Ano-chan for beta-ing this for me.**

**Credits**

**Amelia Spelman- DevoTheMadCashCow**

**Naomi Astari- Nicole Vermillion**

**Sarixa Koteri- Jigglypuff's Pillow**

**Felix Chandler- Ano-chan**


	6. Fun and Mischief

**Disclaimer- I own only what I myself have created, and therefore, not Pokémon or multiple OCs that appear throughout the story. OC credits below.**

It was definitely a fair, bright day, but Adriana Sofyard felt otherwise. Tension stacked up on her shoulders as she sat on the edge of her bench. The first round battles were just starting, and she wouldn't have missed it for the world.

The two contestants bowed first, introducing themselves. There was a girl with short black hair and clear blue eyes; Raven Dashkov, she had said her name was. The other was male, shorter than Raven. He had straggly blonde hair, dark eyes, and was called Jeremy Chamblice. Adriana looked them over with interest. The boy appeared to be firmly dedicated, but the girl had spirit. It was to be an interesting matchup, especially with the catch in this round.

There was barely a soul around outside of the Jotan nobility that knew the reasons behind the first round battles, but Adriana had been specially informed because of her profession. As the child of an almost well-known Pokémon raising business, it was natural to turn to her for help in the tournament.

This particular round, one of the noble ladies had told her, was to test strategic ability and leadership skills. Each tournament participant had been forbidden to use their own Pokémon, and was instead supplied by two Pokémon chosen for their stubborn personalities. Adriana had been picked to care for those Pokémon, and to give them to the trainers.

Adriana had to admit that she had done a very good job. There was hardly a pair anywhere that didn't include some sort of personality handicap. She had most certainly enjoyed working with the Pokémon.

Now, the girl turned her attention back to the battle.

Raven sent out her Pokémon, a steely Kingler and a timid looking Gloom. The Gloom looked up at Jeremy, mouthed what appeared to be a squeak, and almost immediately retreated to hide behind Raven's leg. The Kingler took one look at Raven and crossed his claws defiantly.

Jeremy had been given a Tauros—who raced across the field in circles, scaring the poor Gloom even more—and a Golduck. Both appeared average looking, but Adriana knew better. She smirked to herself, rocking back and forth on her seat.

"Gloom, Sleep Powder!" Raven demanded passionately, already getting into the heat of the battle. She hopped from one foot to the other, eyes blazing.

"Don't let that hit," Jeremy countered, "Tauros, Scary Face! Golduck, add to the effects with Screech!"

The wild bull leered at the Gloom, eyes narrowing threateningly. The morning light glinted off of its horns, giving off a sharp and dangerous impression. The Scary Face was followed up by an eerie high-pitched sound that filled the air and made bystanders cover their ears and wince. The easily spooked Gloom had only managed to blow a puff of Sleep Powder before jumping up in fright and cowering behind its Kingler companion. The large crab took one look at the Tauros, and straightened, puffing out its chest in a masculine manner as if to say, "You think you can threaten _me?_"

Jeremy smiled in spite of himself, and took the initiative to attack. "Okay, Tauros, Take Down! Golduck, hit 'em hard with a Zen Headbutt!"

The Tauros squealed loudly, rearing on its hind legs and kicking with its fore, before recklessly charging at the first Pokémon that moved—Kingler. Golduck also raced off, its head seemingly vibrating with enough force to give someone a migraine by staring at it. Purple waves that distorted sight were emitting from the duck's forehead gem.

At the first sign of enemy attack, the Gloom shrieked it alarm and dashed off, more or less ditching its teammate. The Kingler didn't seem to mind much though, and without a word from Raven, slammed against the storming bull with a tremendously powerful Crabhammer. A green barrier then shot up from the ground as the Golduck approached, causing its head to smash into the hurriedly created Protect. A wave of Psychic energy struggled through, but not enough to faze the sturdy crab.

Kingler Leered smugly.

Golduck, a prideful creature, scowled as best as its beak allowed it to, and lashed out. The Fury Swipes barely marked Kingler's hard shell, but the attack certainly damaged both trainer's—Jeremy and Raven's—confidence. It would be difficult to win with each of the feuding Pokémon going as far as ignoring the trainer's orders.

Adriana watched the exchanges with a careful eye. She set upon predicting who would win. Undetected by the untrained eye, the Pokémon were giving off distinct hints of how they would act in regards to what the other Pokémon would do. The breeder challenged herself with predicting the outcome.

Trying to take control of the situation, Jeremy called out, "Okay, Golduck, you're up close! Use Confusion on Kingler, and give it your all! Tauros, let's stay back for a bit, and use Swagger! Also, be wary of that Gloom, but I think she's not dangerous right now."

Golduck gladly complied, bringing its webbed hands up and closing its eyes in a psychic manner. Nothing seemed to have happened unless you looked closely. Adriana's sharp eyes saw the Kingler's eyes glaze over, and caught the slight limp that overcame the Pokémon's body. She also noticed Golduck hunch over a tad bit, most likely from the focus it took to maintain control of Kingler.

It didn't take an expert to see what Kingler did next, though. Its claw glowing blue with Crabhammer again, it was common speculation that Kingler would bash in the immobile Golduck's head. However, the Crabhammer didn't approach the duck Pokémon. Instead, the Kingler smashed its claw upon its own head, not stopping to be dazed.

The Tauros looked confused too, but also proceeded to follow its instructions. Its eyes glowed red, and it lingered outside of sudden attack range. Gloom seemed even more frightened by the turn of events, but turned to Raven for orders.

The girl looked to be considering possible action plans, blushing furiously. "A-alright, let's try luring them in. Distract Golduck with Sweet Scent, and use Giga Drain!"

Gloom, eager to please, twirled around in a sloppily fabricated dance, releasing an alluring smell from its flower. Golduck, concentrating, slipped up when the soft breeze passed it. The slip in power was enough for Kingler to break free of the duck's control, and the Crabhammer that barely hovered over its own head sprang forward and knocked Golduck back. Then, without a pause, Gloom pointed at the water duck and shrieked a war cry. The Golduck wobbled, taking the blunt of the super-effective attack.

"Recover quickly, Golduck, with a Hydro Pump! Tauros, help Golduck and use Giga Impact!"

Golduck wasted no time in unleashing a powerful water jet from its beak. Tauros rushed to its aid; the confused Kingler was too dizzy to stop the Giga Impact.

"Snap out of it, Kingler! Gloom, help?" cried Raven.

The weed Pokémon took one look at the combined attacks and stood frozen, rooted to one spot. Raven groaned. Adriana grinned secretly, hiding her mouth with her hand. She bounced on her seat, waiting to see if her prediction would come true. It was almost guaranteed that this Pokémon would react in this way, which would mean that the other would...

The Kingler was knocked back by the force behind Tauros's Giga Impact, just as Hydo Pump slammed into it. The water attack splashed on to Tauros as well—

All of havoc broke loose.

The wild bull Pokémon _freaked out._ It raced back and forth, in an almost invisible rage. Adriana watched silently and smugly. Of course. That particular Tauros was _afraid of water_, after all, and therefore one of the worst Pokémon to pair up with a water Pokémon.

Its trainer, Jeremy, watched in complete bewilderment, as did his opponent. In its wild charge, the Tauros had very nearly trampled the Gloom, terrifying it out of its wits, and almost crushed the Golduck who was the source of the water. It would have been completely amusing to watch, had it not been so frightening.

Suddenly, the Tauros turned and charged at the crowd stands. Many watchers stood up, screamed, and flat out ran away. Others only raced to safety. Adriana did neither. She continued to watch the Tauros in its blind, confused trance.

Eventually, after countless failed attempts at subduing the feral Tauros, the battle was put on hold. A break was called, and the viewers all crowded into the town square to gossip. Adriana followed in the back.

She reflected on how easily Jeremy had stumbled into her trap. This pairing, she decided, was ultimately a success.

XXX

"No, I _will not_ let you interview me! Pesky little town criers," Raven shouted loudly, waving a man away from her. She wasn't in the best of moods; the battle was not going according to her plans. Luckily, though, from Jeremy's expression as he walked towards the castle's pavilion, it wasn't going along his plans either. That fact alone seemed to console her decently.

"That, Miss Dashkov, is where you are wrong. I am no crier," Felix Chandler corrected her. "I am but a humble scholar. See, I watched that portion of your battle, and you, lady, caught my eye. I want to know _more_ about your views, your goals. I strongly believe that you have the potential to be extraordinary!"

"You worded that badly, Chandler. You sound like a suitor," an extremely suspicious looking girl, Sarixa Koteri, chirped, much to Felix's dismay.

"Shuddup, Sarixa."

"It's _Rixa_," Rixa complained.

"It's _Felix,_" Felix replied, the same emphasis on his words.

Raven recoiled immediately, stepping back with a force that knocked back the fruit stand behind her. "She—what is tha—who is that...that _girl?_"

Felix sighed, and rubbed his temples. "This is why I told you to keep your mouth shut, Sarixa. Because every time you say something, you draw attention to yourself, and frighten the person I'm trying to draw information out of."

"I am most certainly not scared!" Raven cried, indignant.

Rixa also protested. "I do not only scare them. I disgust them too!"

Felix ignored his younger companion, and looked at Raven with raised eyebrows. The black haired girl spluttered for something to say. "I-it's as the girl...thing...says. I was merely disgusted by her. I'm not scared!"

Felix said nothing.

"Really! I wasn't! I'll answer your questions, then, and after that you can't say she scared me!"

Now, Felix thought, they were finally getting somewhere. "Deal," he said without a second thought.

Rixa, tired of being talked about yet ignored, spoke up. "Chaaaaandleeer, what about meeeeee?" she whined, like a lost Growlithe. "All you care about is knowledge and information. When will we be able to get to the real fun?"

Raven half-stumbled away from the girl, who gained a malicious glint in her violet eye. Felix pushed her away. "Fine, go off to the square or something. I trust you not to get into too much trouble. You know where you can and cannot go."

Rixa seemed happy to leave, and Raven saw that behind Felix's back, the mischievous girl pickpocket a random townswoman. Perhaps, Raven thought, she could learn from this Sarixa gal.

"Now, where were we?" Felix mumbled. "Oh, yes. Why did you enter this tournament? You don't strike me as the kind of person who would go to become ruler of a country."

"To help my family, of course. The same reason as half the other poor people trying out." Raven rolled her eyes. "Are you a foreigner, or have you been living under a rock your whole life? This is common knowledge!"

Felix sniffed. "Yes, in fact, I am foreign. A Kantan native."

"Huh. Actually, I'm originally from Sinnoa, so that makes me a foreigner too," Raven laughed sheepishly.

"To help your family, you say?" Felix pursued this stand of information to resist groaning at the girl's foolishness. "Who exactly is in your family? Why do you want to help your family?"

Raven almost gaped at him. "Why would I _not_ want to help my family? They're my family! Of course I'll help them! There's Taro, only eight years, to take care of, and little 6 year old Lana too! My parents are long gone, so it falls to me to take care of them. They deserve a better life than what little I scavenge up. 'Sides, I think that Jota could use someone who knows a thing or two about common life."

"I see. And do you think you can win this?"

"Of course I can! I'm Raven Dashkov, self-proclaimed Pokémon extraordinaire! I've got motivation, a good cause, strong Pokémon, and back alley tricks up my sleeves. What more could I possibly need?"

XXX

Villagers flooded back into the courtyard, murmuring with excitement and anxiety. They looked forward to watching the continuation of the battle, and yet, somehow, it was not the same battle anymore.

It was now well-known that the Pokémon provided for the trainers were rigged with unknown faults, and it was those little details that could destroy the entire battle for the trainers. With the two trainers, Raven and Jeremy, sweating bullets as they called out their Pokémon again, watching the battle between them had gained a more dangerous edge to it—a more exciting one.

Things were tense on the battlefield too. Jeremy had to rethink his entire strategy. Having a Golduck and a Tauros was a tremendous stroke of good luck, but not if he wasn't aware of all the battle conditions. He had just uncovered Tauros's gigantic fear of water. What else was he unaware of?

Luckily, Jeremy thought as he studied his opponent's face, Raven seemed to be trembling too. Neither of them had any idea what secrets might be exploited during the fight. It was too late to find out, though.

The battle had already begun.

"Right then, Golduck, let's avoid Water attacks for the time being. Use Confusion to lift Tauros up and fling him at Kingler! Tauros, Zen Headbutt him down! If we can take him, Gloom's nothing."

"Kingler, Bubblebeam! There's no need for _Golduck_ to use Water moves if you can!" Raven countered.

Jeremy stepped back. He hadn't thought of that. Silently, he cursed.

Tauros charged ahead, eyes glowing with Psychic energy. The Bubblebeam struck his side, bursting at contact with the bull's rough fur. Feeling wetness dripping down his coat, Tauros panicked, but Golduck's firm Confusion kept the bull from running. Tauros slammed into Kingler headlong. Then, in a heartbeat, it all broke apart.

The second Golduck's grip relaxed, Tauros broke free. The water on his pelt dripped off, but panic had clouded the bull's mind again. This time, though, Tauros had seen where the water came from—Kingler's claw.

It appeared to the poor Pokémon that if the claw was destroyed, there would be no more water. Tauros went wild, in a savage Thrash attack. Kingler's eyes widened almost unnoticeably as it was made into a target for the bull.

"Kingler, Protect! Then, Vice Grip! Gloom, if you can help out, then do it! Sleep Powder!"

Kingler barely managed to pull together a sufficient defense before Tauros barreled into him. Then, the giant crab pulled out his larger claw and wrapped it around the bull's torso. Tauros struggled, his face contorting with Scary Face, his tail lashing out in a futile Tail Whip, and the veins in his neck and forehead bulging with Rage.

Puffs of greenish powder trickled by. Slowly, Tauros stopped moving. After some struggle, his eyes closed in a peaceful snooze. Kingler blinked, lifting the bull up as if unsure what to do with the still body of his opponent.

Jeremy stared on. His face was overcome by a distant expression, his thoughts masked with carefully calculated indifferent. "Golduck, rescue mission time. Aqua Jet over there and Screech Tauros awake. If Gloom interferes, use Confusion to throw it against Kingler."

"Gloom, don't let his dumb threats stop you. Acid!" Raven cried. "Kingler, throw Tauros over to Gloom!"

In a swift moment, the giant crab tossed the bull over his shoulder. Golduck dashed forward, emitting a horrendous high-pitched squeal from the shallows of his throat. Gloom got to the Tauros first, though, having less distance to travel, and spat a glob of purple Acid in his face. The same substance could be seen bubbling up from the flower atop the grass Pokémon's head.

Jeremy growled inaudibly.

"Alright, unleash the Confusion, Golduck! Use your psychic power to gather up the Acid and chuck it at Kingler!"

Golduck's eyes glowed blue as he stopped in his tracks, water dying down in ripples at his feet. Gloom began to float unsteadily, wobbling as she flailed about in an attempt to get back on the ground. The bubbling and bursting acid soon followed her.

Kingler toppled over as Acid sapped away at his shell, and Gloom collapsing on top of him didn't help his situation. Angrily, the Kingler knocked the Grass Pokémon away with an attack easily identified as Crabhammer. Gloom tumbled off of the crab and slumped to the ground.

"Now, Golduck, finish with Zen Headbutt!" Jeremy yelled, pouncing on his chance.

Raven was almost in hysterics. "Kingler, try to get out of that acid! Take down Tauros or something! Use Brine!"

Golduck shot off to crush Gloom, leaving his stunned partner behind to fend for himself. Tauros shivered as water poured all over his body, too immobilized to offer anymore resistance. Gloom was in a similar state. Quivering also, but in fear instead of horror, Gloom lay still as Golduck raced towards it, reaping destruction with his mind. Gloom flew again, this time her last, just as Tauros's conscience gave way.

They fainted simultaneously.

Jeremy gnawed uneasily on his cheek, glaring intently on the battle and trying to ignore the crowd's uproar. He didn't know that Raven was doing the same thing; neither of them met the other's eyes. Jeremy raced through possible strategies now that the battle was one-on-one, skimming them and discarding them. Unfortunately, Raven seemed to have made up her mind, and she didn't seem to have the intent of waiting for him to finish.

"If that's the way it has to go, so be it!" she demanded. "Kingler, Slam!"

"Golduck, Fury Swipes!" Jeremy automatically blurted out. Stupid reflexes, he thought. He hadn't even thought out what might happen if the attack went through.

The two Pokémon dove for each other. Kingler's claw extended, trembling as the crab pushed all his willpower into the blow. Golduck had his webbed fingers held out in the same manner, the determination and power shining in his eyes replicating Kingler's exactly. They collided, as was inevitable. Brown, boring dust flew up into the air, much to the audience's dismay. They watched the dust cloud with a Staraptor's eyes, as if it were the most interesting thing in the country. Jeremy and Raven both stared too, knowing that this would be the finale.

Then, Jeremy took one step back. Raven's eyes widened, before she slumped to her knees. The audience scooted to the tip of their bleachers, anticipating what they saw next. They rose in a slow, steady cheer for the victor.

Golduck stood over Kingler, much battered and injured. He managed a weak grin, and the watchers erupted in applause. Jeremy grinned back, every bit as surprised and stunned. Raven sat still in disbelief. After all that work...

Could it really end like this?

XXX

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of _all ages_, calm yourselves. The show has not ended yet. In fact, it has only just begun," Sarixa's voice blared out from her spot in a tree. The jumbled heap of spectators peered around in confusion. There was more? Was this part of the display too?

Felix Chandler stood among them. He smirked, running his fingers through his brown hair. Of course. Sarixa would _have _to make a huge show of her work. He could almost visualize her giant grin, her wild, feral, almost obsessed eyes, as she wreaked havoc.

Rixa's voice came again.

"Now, I present you with true beauty, in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, fo—!"

She had barely uttered the first syllable of 'four', when an explosion rang out. Nothing followed for a minute, no screams, no sounds—only the same explosion ringing through every pair of ears again and again and again. Then, there was another, and another, most likely triggered by the first, until a series of chain explosions shook the ground. The screaming started at about the third explosion. Panic rippled throughout the courtyard as civilians struggled to flee the scene and knights and soldiers flooded in to find the cause of the explosives.

A mine blew up very close to the yard, flinging up multiple trees and shrubbery.

"Well, I think my countdown was a bit off, but it all boils down to the same thing...a challenge!" Rixa declared triumphantly. "This is Sarixa Koteri speaking, mastermind criminal. Felix Wright, _catch me if you can._"

The girl bounded off, leaving behind her mark—a scene of complete chaos.

**So this is the 'fun' Rixa was talking about. Ha, I love that girl. :3**

**This was a fun chapter, I like to think, even if it did take me forever in order to find the correct inspiration for it. That, and I apologize if it seems a bit choppy in some places—I didn't write it all in one sitting (though the majority of it is...) and I may have left a bit of gray areas. Don't hesitate to tell me what you think.**

**Actually, I planned to have a scene with Rhodrick in it, 'cuz of Raven and all, but I seemed to have skipped over that. Therefore, I've reserved it for next chapter. Sorry, Anna.**

**Kudos to Ano-chan for beta-ing.**

**Credits**

**Adriana Sofyard- ClinicallyInsaneAndDangerous**

**Raven Dashkov- PrettyRaveGirl3**

**Jeremy Chamblice- Imagination Domination**

**Felix Chandler- Ano-chan**

**Sarixa Koteri- Jigglypuff's Pillow**


	7. Chasing the Madwoman

**Disclaimer- I only own what I own, which does not include Pokémon or any of the OCs submitted to me.**

"And just _where_ do you think you're going, young lady?" Rhodri's loud, booming voice made Raven freeze in her tracks. She slowly turned around, buying time to plaster on her 'I-am-just-an-innocent-little-girl' face. Rhodrick stood firmly with his hands on his waist, gazing steadily up into Raven's face. She flinched at his almost accusing eyes.

"Er, not where you think I'm going?" Raven attempted.

"You're not going anywhere, missy!" the fat peddler barked. "Not 'til you finish sweeping my floor, you're not!"

Raven stamped her foot in exasperation, feeling her face heat up. "The city's blowing up and all you can think about it how your floor isn't swept? You won't have a floor to sweep if you don't let me go!"

"There are hundreds of other hero wannabes who can save the city," Rhodri told her.

"You can't always expect them to do it correctly. If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself!" Raven shot back. "That's what my mother told me!"

Rhodrick snorted. "Oh, yeah? Well, you should've thought about cities blowing up before you tried to steal from Rhodrick Flanagan, the young and handsome peddler! Now go sweep that floor—it ain't cleaning itself."

Raven mumbled a couple of obscenities, and then something along the lines of "A Nosepass is handsomer than you." She complied with his order though, grabbing a broom and nearly snapping it in half as she swung it around. Rhodri cried out in alarm.

"No, no, that's not how you sweep! In an orderly fashion, girly! Swinging that thing around is creating more of a mess than you started out with. You'll get dust and grit all over my precious wares!"

"Serves you right, old man!" Raven grumbled.

She lessened the violence in her sweeping, and the next few moments passed quietly. Only the swish of the broom was heard, and the tinkling and rustling of the wares as Rhodrick checked their states. Finally, Rhodri broke the silence. "The explosion girl ran towards the castle."

Raven perked up immediately. "You mean I'm allowed to go?"

"I didn't say that," Rhodrick said. "I just meant stay out of trouble, don't get caught, and that the back storage area needs a full round of dusting."

With that, Rhodri whirled around so that his back was facing the doorway—and Raven—and marched out of the room through the back. Raven giggled at his self-righteousness, forgiving him for their argument earlier. She knew that if she left now, Rhodri would definitely hold her to extra cleaning duty. Of course, she didn't care. It would be worth it.

Raven took a few soft steps towards the door, cautiously looking over her shoulder just in case Rhodri changed his mind and came barreling after her. He didn't. She transitioned into a sprint, and shot out of the store with sudden enthusiasm.

The castle loomed over her before long. It was dazzling, so much more majestic than anything Raven had grown up around. Or, at least, it would be, had all the trees not been uprooted and the ground not littered with random debris. Raven smirked as she jogged past an overturned latrine.

A distant 'Boom!' sounded from what Raven knew was a hidden greenhouse; she had had to save a Burmy for her scavenger hunt there. Dashing through what seemed to be a thorny rose bush, she ran towards the noise. A flock of Murkrow squawked in alarm, not so much because of the explosion, but rather because of the girl that burst out among their ranks without so much of a warning.

Raven skidded past a corner, feeling the friction through her worn boots. Panting, she stared face to face with the glass door of the greenhouse. Brashly, she placed a palm on the handle and paused. Then, she pushed her doubts behind her, swung open the door with great force without thinking about how she'd stand up to a girl with an arsenal of explosives—

And promptly ran straight into the town crier lad from before.

"Ow, hey, what's up with yo--?" Raven yelped, but Felix quickly silenced her.

"Shut up," he hissed. "Do you want to get caught?"

The boy peered out behind a bush that Raven hadn't noticed before. If he realized that Raven was looking over his shoulder, he didn't say so. She saw a girl, with messy brown hair—or was it brown? Raven squinted. No, it was reddish too. And greenish. She wrinkled her nose. What was it with this girl? And why did she seem so familiar?

_"That, Miss Dashkov, is where you are wrong. I am no crier," Felix Chandler corrected her. "I am but a humble scholar. See, I watched that portion of your battle, and you, lady, caught my eye. I want to know __more__ about your views, your goals. I strongly believe that you have the potential to be extraordinary!"_

_"You worded that badly, Chandler. You sound like a suitor," an extremely suspicious looking girl, Sarixa Koteri, chirped, much to Felix's dismay._

_"Shuddup, Sarixa."_

_"It's __Rixa__," Rixa complained._

_"It's __Felix,__" Felix replied, the same emphasis on his words._

_Raven recoiled immediately, stepping back with a force that knocked back the fruit stand behind her. "She—what is tha—who is that...that __girl?__"_

_Felix sighed, and rubbed his temples. "This is why I told you to keep your mouth shut, Sarixa. Because every time you say something, you draw attention to yourself, and frighten the person I'm trying to draw information out of."_

_"I am most certainly not scared!" Raven cried, indignant._

_Rixa also protested. "I do not only scare them. I disgust them too!"_

"She's that girl!" Raven blurted out in dismay.

"Holy—Shut up!" Felix snarled. Raven started, having forgotten the boy was there. Then, she saw what he saw. Not only was Sarixa standing there smugly on a tree, she was surrounded by soldiers. Armed soldiers. Armed soldiers yelling curses up to her.

Raven blinked, puzzled. "What are they doing? Why don't the soldiers just shoot her down?"

Felix rolled his eyes. "Because that would be against Jotan law. It's illegal to kill children 16 and under who have not tried killing you unless you consult the king first."

"So," Raven prompted. "Why don't they consult the king?"

Felix clenched his fist and grinded his teeth. "What king, pray tell? There is no king!"

"That's a good point," Raven admitted. She was about to say more, but Rixa moved just then. The girl stood up abruptly, startling the soldiers nearby the tree, and jumped two trees closer to where Felix and Raven hid. They both froze, feeling the hairs prickle up on their necks.

"Ah," Rixa announced, so loudly that her voice echoed in the enclosed greenhouse. "I've been waiting for you to show up." Her voice took on a syrupy sweet tone.

Raven was baffled. She looked at Felix, shooting dozens of questions from her eyes. He ignored her, his lips pursed tight. A deep voice startled them—Raven had assumed Rixa had been talking to Felix.

"Sarixa, Sarixa, Sarixa," came the booming chuckle of a grown man. Someone approached, evidently a Knight because Raven could hear the pieces of his armor clanking against each other. "Oh, how I have waited for this day. You cannot understand my contained glee now that we finally come face to face."

The owner of the voice soon came into the pair's view. He was most definitely a Knight. His shield was strapped around his arm, a picture of a Wailord embossed into the shiny metal. He held himself proudly, and though he appeared stern and commanding, his face bore the marks of a man who laughed a lot. Apparently, he was also a very powerful noble. The soldiers cowered simply by his appearance, their eyes widening as they hurried to salute him. Sarixa did not seem fazed though. If anything, she was positively glowing with excitement.

"S-sir! Captain! There was no need for you to bother with her by coming here. We had it under control!" the nearest soldier bumbled.

"Nonsense." The Captain of the Guard waved him away effortlessly, silencing him with a flicker of his hand. "Sarixa has made fools of the Guard for long enough. Today, she blew up half the courtyards. It's a mess. Too bad she can't escape this time. Every other time we cornered her, she's always outran our soldiers. Not today though." He looked up at her, a menacing glint in his brown eyes. "Do you hear that, dear? There's no escape this time! You made a mistake running into this greenhouse! I've locked all possible escape route—you can't get away!"

Raven risked a look towards Felix. The boy was unruffled, even amused by the Captain's proclamation. He seemed relatively unworried for someone whose companion was in a dire situation. Felix noticed her expression. He shook his head slightly.

"Don't be silly," he told her soberly. "Sarixa isn't stupid. She'll get away all right. The question is, how?"

As if on cue, Rixa's low giggle echoed throughout the greenhouse, turning into a full out shriek of mirth. "Felix Wright, my poor fool of a noble. It is not _I _who made a mistake today."

Wright narrowed his eyes, his jaw stiffening slightly.

"Do you honestly think that I..." Rixa giggled again. "That I, Sarixa Koteri, would enter a greenhouse during a chase—?"

"You're here," the captain stated flatly.

"Without an escape planned?" she continued like she hadn't been interrupted. Then, she took on step forward. Except that she was on a tree. The girl plummeted to the ground, and suddenly, and only through years of dealing with her, Wright understood what she was up to.

"No! Mantine, stop that girl!" He turned to the soldiers. "What are you doing? You said you've got it under control, so what are you doing standing their looking like blubbering idiots? Stop her!"

His Mantine flew out of his Pokéball, soaring high into the air with his wing-like flippers before making a head dive towards Sarixa. The water Pokémon's efforts were fruitless. The ground swallowed the girl, closing down before anyone else could reach her.

Raven watched in a mixture of anxiety and horror as Sarixa collided with the ground, only to have it give way underneath her. Not only did the pitfall—pre-planted, Raven suspected—allow Sarixa to fall through, but it also collapsed after her, ending all possibility of pursuit.

Raven was thoroughly astounded.

Wright did not share her amazement. The Captain was livid, taking out the disappointment on his soldiers. He didn't notice his Mantine continue its flight, swinging up just in time to avoid a head on collision with the ground. He also didn't notice his Pokémon crash into a bush instead, but he heard the rustle of a boy jumping out just in time, and the yelp of a girl whose intuition hadn't developed to the point of the boy's.

Wright swung around to see Felix helping Raven up off the ground. His first thought was wondering how the two of them got there. His second was that the pair had probably seen the scene before, and ultimately, they had witnessed his utter defeat.

Which was probably the reason he took an immediate dislike to them.

"You!" he barked. "What in the King's name are you doing here?"

"What king?" Raven shot back, offended by the Knight's tone though it wasn't the smartest thing to say. Felix managed to catch this on even if Raven didn't. He froze in shock at the same time Wright did. Then, he grabbed Raven's arm and pulled her behind him.

"I sincerely apologize for my sister's insolence. She's a brat, really, who wouldn't know respect if it slapped her in the face." Felix spoke quickly, spinning out lies as if he were reading from a script.

Wright scowled. "Mhm. Start keeping her in line."

Raven made a move to argue, but Felix stepped back in a pretend bow; in actuality, it was to step on the girl's foot.

"Will do, sir. By the way, did you need help with that girl from before?" he added slyly.

The Captain regarded the two with caution, before deciding that if the kids could find Sarixa, he could pretend she hadn't outwitted him. He was about to agree when he got a good look at Raven's face. "Have I seen you before?"

Raven sighed sulkily. "Most likely yes, sir. I was one of the trainers who battled today, the one where Rixa made her announcement."

"Oh!" Wright exclaimed heartily, and much to Raven's dismay. "You're the one who lost!"

"Hey, I almost won! If I ever get a chance to battle that other guy with my real Pokémon, I'd kick his butt!" Raven grouched.

Wright sighed. "I suppose you might've. But the reason we provided different Pokémon was to test your leadership abilities. Sometimes, when you're the ruler of a country, you'll be put in situations where you must command Pokémon—or people—that you've never even seen before. That's the purpose of this round."

Raven thought this over. "I still think that I could have won if I'd been able to choose my own Pokémon. Can't I show leadership then?"

Felix spoke up. "I'll make you a deal then, Captain."

"What kind of deal, boy? Make it worth my while. Perhaps you would like to live up to your offer about Sarixa."

Felix smiled faintly. "Why, my good sir, that was exactly the kind of deal I was thinking of. Let me offer this: if Raven can subdue Sarixa, then you will allow her to move on in the tournament. That way, it benefits us both."

"What about her opponent, Chamblice?" Wright inquired suspiciously.

The boy only shrugged. "You've got nothing to lose. Jeremy can move on also. Can't you make one teeny exception for Raven? You'll never get an opportunity to catch Sarixa quite like this one."

The Captain of the Guard raised a single eyebrow, before nodding reluctantly. "Fine. Have it your way. I don't know if I have the authority to do this, but if you can bring me that criminal girl, I'll do what I can to move Raven up."

Felix's grin widened.

"Excellent. Simply excellent."

XXX

"What in the world are you thinking?" Raven hissed at Felix, her voice muffled and hushed so that their soldier escort would not overhear. "Me, your sister? Have you lost your mind? And I thought you were working with Rixa. So why are you sending me off to go capture her?"

"We've went over this, Raven," Felix replied, not even looking at her. "I want you to move on. Besides, I really doubt you could capture Sarixa unless she wanted to be caught."

Raven scowled. "So why'd you make that deal with him if I can't even do it? I don't think that Rixa would want to be caught if she's escaped him for this long."

When Felix didn't reply, the girl blanched. "You mean...you didn't really...you did, didn't you?"

The soldier escorts stopped abruptly. "We're here now," said the soldier closest to them. Raven thanked him absentmindedly, and walked outside with Felix.

"Sarixa's waiting in the courtyard. You know, the one you fought Jeremy in?" Felix informed her. "And I suggest you be prepared. Sarixa will put up a fight. Her task is to let you show our leadership skills, after all."

Raven pouted. "If you're totally cheating anyways, why can't the battle be staged?"

"For your own good, little girl," Felix told her, adopting a mock-parent tone. "I can't cheat you to the second round only to have you lose. You've got to develop your own skil—ow!"

Raven kicked him mid-sentence.

"Shuddap. I get it," she grumbled.

Felix cracked a wry grin. "I'll leave you on your own now, Raven. I trust that you won't fail me, hm?"

Raven wasn't given time to reply. She turned her head towards him to shoot off a mouthy remark, but Felix had already run off. A breeze started, rustling the leaves of all the trees and disguising the noise the boy made as he left. Suddenly, Raven felt very alone.

She told herself she was being silly. She wasn't alone. She still had her Pokémon. Then, Raven told herself to walk.

Walk where? Hadn't Felix mentioned the courtyard?

Sarixa was indeed in the courtyard. Raven entered bravely, but there was no crowd waiting, no one to see her as she battled the criminal mastermind called Sarixa Koteri. Raven couldn't even see her foe yet, but the jangle of jeweled rings rand loud in her ears. Sarixa's voice was also pitched high, following the wind's rhythm in a song-like screech, though it seemed to be coming from everywhere. Raven could not tell if she was only imagining it or not.

"So you've come," spoke a familiar voice as the wind died down. "I've been waiting forever. It seems Chandler isn't with you, which is just as well, I guess. Less restriction for my fun."

A brown flash shot out of the trees. Raven identified it as Sarixa as she tumbled to the ground. She got to her feet, running a hand through her thoroughly messy hair. Brown particles brushed away to reveal a pale yellow color.

"You're blonde," Raven said stupidly. She found herself disgusted. If Sarixa was naturally blonde, then what was the brown stuff covering her hair that could be so easily removed? Years of neglect, dust, and grime collecting upon Sarixa's head? Raven wrinkled her nose before turning to a more urgent matter than how often Rixa washed her hair.

"Sarixa Koteri, I've come in the name of justice to bring you to the Jotan court of law," Raven cried out, slightly carried away in her attempt to create a good show.

"Puh-leeze, stop with the dramatics. It's just you and me now, dearie," Sarixa purred. "You and me and Vyndyr here."

A Gardevoir appeared to be floating behind Sarixa. Raven was impressed. She hadn't even noticed the Psychic Pokémon before. "Don't forget my Absol!"

The pristine Disaster Pokémon leapt out of his Pokéball. Glowing red eyes set upon the Gardevoir. Absol smirked a bit, shaking his mane of fur. With a wild battle cry, he charged.

"Great, Absol, let's use a Shadow Ball! Blast it along with Dark Pulse," Raven demanded as the wind picked up again.

Rixa was just as quick. "Vyndyr, Calm Mind. Then Psychic!"

A sphere of dark energy shot towards the undisturbed Psychic Pokémon, whipping through the wild air. Vyndyr glowed blue, palms pushed together as if making a wish. Then she opened her eyes in a flash. A blurred barrier clashed with the Shadow Ball's momentum, pushing it backwards.

Absol shot the Dark Pulse to support his previous attack. Of course, this only resulted in a tremendous explosion.

Raven swore she could feel the trees surrounding them vibrate from the force. Sarixa only laughed.

"Now, Captivate," the girl singsonged.

The Gardevoir teleported in front of the bewildered Absol. She swayed her body, staring deeply into the dark Pokémon's eyes. Then, suddenly charming, she smiled, her whole face glowing with delight.

Needless to say, Absol flushed, pawing the ground as if it were the most interesting thing on the planet. Raven groaned. "C'mon, buddy, snap out of it! Take advantage of the explosion—use its power for a Razor Wind!"

Absol blinked, shaking his mane again. The winds gathered behind him, whistling like confused Kricketune.

"Wish!" countered Rixa.

The Razor Wind went wild. The rapid air currents snapped trees like they were hay, swirled dirt into funnels, and plucked the area clean of any features not fastened securely to the ground. Vyndyr, struggling with the wind, was stuck in the middle of all of it.

The wind, leaves, and airborne rocks scratched against the Psychic Pokémon's skin, leaving visible marks. Vyndyr cried out, but refused to surrender to the pain. She stayed rooted in one spot until the strain forced her to keel over.

Sarixa merely grinned.

"Finish her off," Raven cheered. "Hyper Beam!"

The bright beam contrasted the darkness and savage ferocity of Absol's earlier attacks, but managed to draw an expression of concern from Rixa's face.

But as the attack neared the near-unconscious Gardevoir, she looked up. Her eyes glowed again, the familiar sheen of Psychic. Hyper Beam made a sharp curve, narrowly missing the somehow recovered Vyndyr. Instead, it spiraled backwards and hit Absol in the side. Raven's Pokémon snarled in surprise.

Raven realized what trick Sarixa had pulled on her. Wish had healed almost all the damage Razor Wind had done to Vyndyr. Absol had harnessed most of his energy for nothing.

Rixa recognized the look on Raven's face. She smirked, proceeding to make immature funny faces. "That's right; you've been losing since the beginning. Too bad. You might have had something with that Razor Wind attack."

Raven gritted her teeth to avoid snapping back. Right now, what she needed was a plan. A good plan—something Sarixa wouldn't be able to outsmart.

Absol looked exhausted, but not too tired. He could probably last another couple of hits, Raven decided. It wasn't the best condition to be in.

"We've got to end this now! Use Dark Pulse again!"

Sarixa wagged her finger condescendingly. "Now, now, don't be rash. Let's think our strategies thoroughly before we overexert ourselves with useless tactics. Vyndyr, dodge with Teleport!"

The Gardevoir was gone before Absol had even managed to form the Dark Pulse. The blast hit the ground where Gardevoir had been, but it was futile. Vyndyr rematerialized behind Absol, who attempted another attack. This time, Vyndyr managed to escape by a second.

"Oh, boo-hoo," laughed Sarixa. "If only you had been a tad faster."

Raven was angry. Angry that she was losing, mad that she had no plain, infuriated that Rixa was taunting her. Hadn't Felix hinted that Sarixa knew she was _supposed_ to lose? Maybe the wild girl had forgotten. The way things were going, Raven would fail. She'd fail at catching Rixa, and fail in the tournament.

Absol was having similar thoughts. Launching a Shadow Ball into empty space, he was shocked to see Vyndyr appear just in time to be struck by the attack. But the Gardevoir shook off the Shadow Ball as if it were nothing.

"You need something stronger," Rixa grinned smugly. "That Shadow Ball lost too much of its power before it hit Vyndyr. Better luck next time."

Raven frowned. She knew Sarixa was right. Their efforts amounted to virtually nothing.

"_That's right; you've been losing since the beginning. Too bad. You might have had something with that Razor Wind attack."_

Raven blinked. Uh, what? Why was she remembering what Sarixa had teased her about earlier?

"_You might have had something with that Razor Wind attack."_

"Oh, no way," Raven mumbled under her breath. There was no way she could've been that dense before. Had she really brushed aside all the hints the other girl was dropping?

"Absol, trust me on this," Raven commanded to her Pokémon. Her agitation level spiked. It was this or failure. If she was only jumping into conclusions...

She brushed that thought aside. This had to be the way. "Power up your Razor Wind now!"

"Hah!" Rixa cackled. "Just use Wish again, Vyndyr. These dunces never learn!"

Absol looked as if he agreed with Sarixa, but commenced to summon the gales all over again. Raven caught Rixa's demeaning eye. She glared. Sarixa smiled sweetly, like a demoness.

Raven's Pokémon roared, screaming in all frustration and fury, unleashing Razor Wind with all his might. There were no obstacles to obstruct the rage this time—all of the power was focused on one point:

Vyndyr.

The Gardevoir shrieked as the winds tore at her. Raven stared the Pokémon down as her mind's gears cranked.

"_Oh, boo-hoo. If only you had been a tad faster."_

Faster, though Raven. She couldn't let Gardevoir take Wish's benefits anymore. That way, she needed to finish Gardevoir off quickly.

Waiting until Razor Wind was over would be too late. Gardevoir would recover, just like last time.

The time to act was now, but...

"_You need something stronger. That Shadow Ball lost too much of its power before it hit Vyndyr. Better luck next time."_

Absol was too far away from Gardevoir. Add the wind to the distance, and Absol's Hyper Beam might not even hit. No, there was only one option left, Raven concluded. It was risky, brash, and very, very stupid, but it was the only one.

"Absol, remember to trust me! Give it your all! Dive into the Razor Wind, Absol!" Raven screamed, rivaling Gardevoir's pained yells. In the blink of an eye, Absol was gone with the wind. Literally. Razor Wind tossed the Pokémon around like a rag doll, but Raven could see Absol's efforts to stay conscious.

"Get as close as you can to Gardevoir!" Raven could almost feel the hysteria in her tone. Absol struggled to make a sort of swimming motion through the air. Already, the intensity was letting up. Time was running out.

Still, Rixa's smile was plastered to her face even as the dust in her hair was blown away.

Raven tapped her foot impatiently. Any second now. Absol was so, so close. The wind was lessening by the moment. Unable to bare inactivity any longer, Raven shouted, "Hyper Beam—full power!"

Absol formed the attack so quickly, desperate. The beam struck the weakened Vyndyr full on. Gardevoir flew a full 20 feet into the air and landed with a hollow thud.

Sarixa was quick to withdraw the broken form of her Pokémon, yet seemed to struggle with wiping the grin off her face. "I concede," she said breezily, as if she were merely commenting on a friend's outfit. Then she added cheekily, "You've earned this. Or so Chandler told me to tell you."

Raven was dumbfounded. She would have a lot to learn from Sarixa. The girl appeared to have been guiding her along the whole time.

The contemplation would come later though, because now Raven snatched Rixa's hands up. "You're coming with me, criminal," she proclaimed with fake bravado.

Rixa was unimpressed. "Shut up and turn me in so I can escape and annoy the Captain even more."

"I'll be more than happy to."

**Uhhh. Yeah. My updating schedules are getting worse. Sorry about that. **

**This chapter might be hard to follow. I wrote the first half...2-ish months ago? and the second half right now. So I might've lost my first train of thought. Tell me what you think anyways.**

**For lack of better thing to say, I'm going to ask you guys what you would like to see next, whether it be an event, a character, or whatever. I'm not promising that I'll use your suggestion, but it's food for my muse. :D**

**Credits**

**Rhodrick Flanagan- ShadowDragoon32**

**Raven Dashkov- PrettyRaveGirl3**

**Felix Chandler- Ano-chan**

**Sarixa Koteri- Jigglypuff's Pillow**

**And a mentioning of Jeremy Chamblice- Imagination Domination**


	8. Hidden Motives

**Disclaimer- I do not own Pokémon.**

People generally tend to believe that nobles eat at fancy parties and feasts every night, dancing well into the morning. That belief, Naomi concluded, was entirely false.

It was six hours past noon, and the sun was setting. Naomi imagined herself gazing into the fiery horizon while enjoying a quiet Hoenn pasta dish...

But no.

She sat, instead, at a long table decorated with lit silver candles and exotic dishes from the four corners of the world. The air hung chilled and awkward. Kelana Drae sat to the right of her, picking silently at her steamed Crawdaunt. The Kantan, Lored, sat on the other side, thinking deeply.

But all the attention was focused on the head of the table, where a handsome Knight sat unperturbed.

"About the tournament," said Sir Torin Mahogany casually. Around him, every single noble tensed. A serving girl dropped her tray in fear.

"Continue," prompted Naomi, her voice eerily steady though her hands shook in anticipation.

"How long do you think it will take? Without a ruler, Jota is awfully vulnerable for invasion. Are the other countries as loyal as they claim to be? Can we count on them?"

Verona sniffed, and said, "I have been saying the same thing for ages."

Naomi, along with several others, slammed her clenched fists on the table and stood up. "Sinnoa would never stab her allies in the back! What are you suggesting?"

At the same time, Lored commented lazily, "It's not as if Kantus isn't weak also. I hear that the top two clans have banded together. They'll be busy for some time."

The Lances turned their heads to glare at the suspicious foreigner, but they said nothing else. They didn't need to.

The Hoenn representative shrugged her slim shoulders. "I can't speak for my country. We've given you our oath of alliance, but that's all you have to trust us."

She continued to eat as if the silence wasn't echoing around them. Even Naomi could tell that she was new to Jota and uninformed of Torin's...heritage.

"Ahem," Wright coughed. "It is irrelevant; what I wish to know is what Lord Mahogany means by the tournament taking too long, and I want to know of this danger he thinks Jota is in. Sir, do you doubt my, and the Jotan military's, abilities?"

Mahogany laughed, a slow, drawn out chuckle.

"Felix, I don't doubt anyone's capabilities," he drawled. "I was merely stating the truth that Jota is in a perilous state of affairs during this drama with no leader."

"Good sir," Kelana said icily. "I thought you also stated that you didn't care for the throne."

The madman glanced at her briefly. "My dears, is that what this is all about? Then, you are correct. I said I did not want to be King, and I do not want to be King. It's that simple. I just ask for an estimate on when the new King shall be crowned."

"So you can kill them?" muttered another Sinnoan ambassador. No one admitted to having heard him.

Talking over the foolish man, Naomi still regretted her answer. "I'm sorry, Sir Mahogany, but there is no way of determining that. We still do not have all the details decided. There could be any number of hindrances."

"Any vague guesses?" Torin pressed.

"No."

Silence.

Then, Lord Mahogany stood up, pushing his chair back. "Very well then; I can take a hint. I won't ask anymore, but look among this table. Who else can you truly trust other than yourself?"

XXX

He was in his twenties, or so. His eyes were bright, a sapphire hue, greatly contrasting the dull reddish of his hair.

He stood outside a tavern, guzzling rum. Even so, he didn't look mean or evil. His face was scarred, a gash running across his cheek to his chin, but he looked relaxed. His eyes were wary, or perhaps they always were, but they didn't have the look of a killer in them. In fact, he almost looked as if he, somewhere, sometime far away, he had seen something very wrong.

He was not smiling.

Amelia Spelman reviewed her instructions for the nth time. Yes, this man matched the description of one Zakkus Kitsunii perfectly, but Amelia had no idea what he had done to warrant a manhunt.

She unconsciously fingered the hilt of her own sword, new and unfamiliar. It balanced her height and body type, the armorist had made sure of that, but it just didn't have the warm and worn feel her old blade had. Did she have the skill to defeat a hardened criminal that had evaded the Guard's justice for so many years? Who had once crossed blades with Felix Wright himself?

What had he even done?

Amelia turned to her informant once more. "Are you absolutely sure that this is Sir Zakkus?"

She looked down at the down at the 15 year old, a girl with white hair and red eyes. Friday Thursday nodded once, slightly irritated by Amelia's hesitation. "Yeah, I'm absolutely sure. I've seen him around before with his little rogue buddies."

Friday glared at him a bit, but Amelia wasn't convinced. If this girl disliked him so much, couldn't the guy just be some civilian being framed?

"You," she called, sacrificing the element of surprise for the gift of certainty. "Are you Zakkus Kitsunii?"

The man tensed considerably, his hand flying to his weapon, and he didn't answer. It would take a two year old to miss the signs. They had the right guy.

"Told you, Lady," said Friday.

Amelia gave in and smiled at the girl. "Thanks, Friday."

Then, she gave the hand sign for subordinates to stand back. Amelia stepped out of the comfort of the corner and into broad view. "Zakkus Kitsunii, you are under suspicion of crime. Surrender your weapons and turn yourself in to me at once. Failure to meet these demands will result only in your capture using force."

She saw the florist across the street step out to see what the commotion was about. Two women in front of the grocer stood around gossiping and staring.

Zakkus himself was unperturbed. He stood still though, having discarded his beverage via crushing and throwing over his shoulder. His other hand remained on this sword.

"They sent a child to 'recapture' me?" he said softly, his eyes narrowing and sweeping his surroundings for other forces.

"It's just me," Amelia informed him. "But I wouldn't relax if I were you. I've got to be pretty good, since I'm gonna be a Knight. I'm Top of the Year already."

"Heh," Zakkus sneered slightly. "Top of the Year means nothing. Even I was the Top."

Amelia's eyes widened the fraction of an inch. "You were a Knight?"

They had drawn their swords and were sizing each other up, circling steadily. Amelia had already broken out in a sweat. The way Zakkus held his blade was proof enough that he'd had years of experience. The swordsman himself appeared unfazed.

"No, never." His voice almost broke at the memory, but it was slight and Amelia didn't notice.

"Something happened? Did you drop out, or get injured or something?" Zakkus's blue eyes glazed over, before the hesitation broke. Amelia had no time to read the warning sign before her sword was almost wrenched from her grip. She barely had time to propel her body up to kick her opponent in the face. Her little toe connected, but then Zakkus was behind her, holding her sword arm against her back. She felt his breath on her ear when he spoke.

"Something to that sort."

Then, he had gone again, releasing her and returning to his previous position: sizing her up to strategize his next move.

It was then that Amelia realized he was just toying with her, and that she wasn't going to get anywhere in the battle unless she came up with something quickly.

She dove in towards her opponent, trying to distract him from formulating an escape. Her blade was held horizontal, straight out from her body. Zakkus waited until she was too close, and then brought his own sword to counter the strike. Amelia's blow rebounded off the thin and sturdy metal.

They were suddenly in close combat, fighting not only with steel but also with the blunt of their punches and kicks. Suddenly, Amelia shouted out, "Go! Rex, attack!"

Zakkus stumbled, swearing as he looked around for another Knight to defend himself from. He did not see what was coming; Amelia released her Tropius.

Rex roared, and thundered towards Zakkus. The fugitive was caught off guard. "Gyah!"

"Hah!" Amelia crowed in triumph, making a mad dash to victory. Her blade brushed against Zakkus's neck, and she held it there, as she pinned Zakkus against Rex's side. The leafy dinosaur shared her excitement in the victory, but shook his head in reminding his trainer what she had set out to do. "You are under arrest, sir, for the murder of Savina Chile, eight years ago. It has taken that long to convict you, but I will see your murderous self to prison if it's the last thing I do. I will become a Knight, because I have my heart set on it. Unlike you, who turned to crime to console your mind after failing."

Zakkus stared unflinchingly into her eyes. He did not appear frightened, sad, or angry. "Do not speak to me," he said, "regarding issues that you are not knowledgeable in."

"Wow," Friday exclaimed, impressed. "That was a real, honest-to-goodness battle. It's the first one I've ever seen live, and so far, it's the best. I'm totally going to become a Knight just like you, Lady Amelia."

Amelia had time for a brief smile, but then she pulled out her ropes and bound Zakkus's hands together. "Don't try to struggle," she told him curtly, "or I might have to knock you out and carry you."

"Could your little self carry big old me?" scoffed Zakkus calmly.

Amelia glowered at him.

"And," he continued. "How do you know I won't escape? You know, you only captured me because of my own foolishness. But I've learned now. And the rest of those guards can't hold a lantern to my ability, I've evaded them for so long. How do you know I won't just outsmart them again?"

The lady page grimaced to herself. She, too, had mulled over this thought. "I don't know. If you escape, though, I'll be there to stop you."

Zakkus only smirked and said nothing.

As if he...could he have...? It was as if he had wanted to hear those words from Amelia's mouth.

XXX

Naomi dropped the offending piece of paper.

She stared at the envelope, feeling a familiar tingle of annoyance and fear too intertwined. Luckily, she was alone so no one noticed her odd reverie. Slowly, carefully, as if moving too quickly could result in spontaneous death, Naomi knelt down to recover her mail. This time, it had come alone. Still, it was in a disturbingly bright orange envelope.

Sealed again in sweet Combee wax, the letter emitted a glaringly important atmosphere. Naomi sighed. She simply had to throw it away...and yet, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Resigned, the Sinnoan noble took her table knife and slit the letter open.

Forest green ink upon crisp white parchment, Naomi's hand shook as she took in all the fine details. They were all frighteningly familiar.

Except the ink, Naomi noted. The ink was a different color from the blue of the last letter. It read in calligraphy:

_Fort Dala. 6:00 PM._

Naomi sighed. She could go, she reasoned, and see what she could find out. Maybe she would meet the sender this time. Still, Naomi felt she was being played as a puppet.

"Vermont," she said to her room.

Out of the shadows, a Pokémon walked out. He was humanoid, but could never be mistaken for a person. The Pokémon bowed deeply, with an elegance matching Naomi's own.

Naomi smiled at the Gallade. "Vermont, I feel uncomfortable."

Vermont regarded her carefully, quietly.

"I'm going to go out of my way this afternoon and follow this envelope's instructions. I want you to scout around me to see if you can find whoever sent this to me. Can you do this?"

Vermont bowed again, just as a gentleman should, and Teleported away. Naomi imagined what he would have said if he could talk.

In a deep voice, refined and rich. "Of course, milady. Whatever you wish."

XXX

"Milord, Sir Knight," Amelia greeted Wright politely, curtsying the best she could. "I have him here, Zakkus Kitsunii himself, in chains."

The red-haired criminal actually hadn't given her any trouble at all. Friday Thursday had remarked on his silence quite accurately, saying, "It would almost be like he was _willing_ to submit himself to those binds if, you know, he wasn't being arrested and sentenced to death."

Even now, Zakkus was looking down at his feet and not speaking. The Captain of the Guard was looking very cheerful though, patting Amelia on the back heartily. "I knew you wouldn't fail me."

Zakkus looked up at Wright's voice. "Felix," he said, surprised but not showing it. "This girl, she's half your age and she's done what you never could. Pitiful."

The Knight reddened. "And I've done," he spat back. "I've done what _you_ never could—I became a Knight!"

Amelia reacted similarly, but only through the discipline drilled into her head that the man who insulted your superior insulted you also. "Know your place, convict! You're on the death row; do you want to bring on your death sooner?"

"Don't I end up dead anyways?" asked Zakkus. Amelia blinked. What he said was true, and yet...

"But surely you have things you like to do, right? You don't want those taken away from you."

"I'm doing what I like," replied the prisoner. "It's you who is not. You think you're right, but is this justice? If you think you're taking away what I love...does that make you happy? To destroy a man?"

Wright struck out rapidly, and would have sent Zakkus flying across the room had it not been for his chains. "Don't listen to this treacherous scumbag, Amelia," he snarled. "And you, prisoner! Don't spew out lies when you don't know the whole story!"

"If I were you, I'd take my own advice," Zakkus said firmly. "Oh, wait. You already know the whole story. You're just spewing lies."

"Take him away! To Fort Dala! Lock him in room 1337 immediately, on the food schedule Z," barked the Knight.

Amelia wasn't familiar with most of the terms, but apparently, the four soldiers who stepped into the room were. They picked Zakkus right off the floor and marched him straight out to Dala.

She knew that Fort Dala was on the Ecruteak-Dala border, and that it was a prison camp for the most hardened of criminals. They were all on death row. She'd heard through hearsay that every morning, the Fort Dala general woke them up at 4 in the morning just to feed Grumpig. They weren't allowed to go back to bed, and any man found sleeping until after 10 PM was promptly executed. Her mother had told her that they all had different meal schedules, A being 3 meals a day, B being 2, C being 1, and D being scraps. She'd never heard of a Z schedule though.

"Milord, Sir Knight?" Amelia began uncertainly. When she had his attention, she continued. "And are you sure he's going to get high enough security so that he can't escape? He kept pestering me about that when I first caught him."

"He bluffed. Zakkus Kitsunii has too much honor to escape. You beat him fair and square, so he'll submit to what you want," Wright said, unconcerned. "I sent him to the best prison I know of. Even if he did want to escape, he'd have to go through every single one of my guards. He'd have to do this through the aftereffects of daily beatings, hunger, and confusion. Fort Dala is like an impenetrable maze."

Amelia was impressed, and a little guilty. Daily beatings? That was a tad bit harsh; Fort Dala was sounding darker by the moment. She almost regretted catching Zakkus to send him there. Almost.

Wright regarded her curiously, looking her over thoroughly. "You know, Amelia, there's someone who works there that I think you should meet. He could teach you a lot. He's a senior Knight who's worked for Jota for longer than I have."

"I'd like that," Amelia replied without thinking.

"Very well. Starting tomorrow, you're assigned as Page to Fort Dala."

XXX

Torin Mahogany was the kind of man who loved complexity. Now, the Jotan nobles were in a state of confusion. He knew that most were against him, and his unknown ambitions. It was time to gather some allies.

Already, he knew that Felix Wright was on his side. Even if the Captain of the Guard didn't know it yet, Torin knew that Wright would not be able to refute his alliance to the crown. And Torin was the true heir. Wright would not take long to recruit.

The first person to come to mind as an ally was the Lady Naomi of Sinnoa. The girl was undeniably brilliant and cunning, not unlike himself. Naomi was determined, with just the right connections, and very well-liked. That she was beautiful also was just an added bonus.

Unfortunately, Naomi had taken a blatant position against him.

Well, Torin reasoned, she would be out of his way very soon. To discover her weakness, claim it, and use it against her; he'd done all but the latter. But it was almost time to lock her away from his plans. She'd be nothing but a nuisance otherwise.

Naomi Astari might even figure out his plan before he put it in motion. Torin could not have her telling a soul, especially if it was her nature to work against him.

Now, that Chambers boy was a different story.

Torin loved planning too; it had been what he was best at. Ethan Chambers was the subject of every mastermind's fantasies. He had a good reputation and status, and was quite bright as well. Plus, he was extraordinarily easy to manipulate. One only had to push all the right buttons and he'd come and follow like a blind Growlithe.

Mahogany grinned at the thought, the vision of all his hard work and efforts coming into fruition. He had only to begin.

It was time, Torin noted as the clock struck three. Ethan Chambers himself, Lord of Misina and advisor in training to the late King, strode into the library in which Mahogany resided and took the seat across from the madman.

"You called me here because...?" he demanded slightingly, running his fingers through his hair to make sure every single strand was in position.

Torin smiled charmingly, flexibly turning into every bit of a gentleman as he could have been. "Lord Chambers, how would you like to become King?"

Ethan froze, narrowing his eyes. "I can't. We are holding a tournament for this very reason, Mahogany. The victor shall become King, and I shall be his advisor. An advisor is a very respectable stature, you know. It's almost as good as being King itself, and you get added privileges like you've never dreamed."

"And yet, you'll never be as good as the ruler of Jota," finished Torin. "Face it, Lord Chambers, you want to be King. What if I could make that happen?"

Ethan was not so quick to reply this time. He mulled the thought over, savoring the victorious feel in his daydream of waking up in the King's chambers, commanding the King's army, eating the King's foods, doing the King's jobs...

To the Lord of Misina, it sounded like bliss.

But he wasn't stupid.

He was cautious, testing his boundaries. "You wouldn't hurt anyone, would you? Surely even you wouldn't harm a man for power."

"Not a soul will die, I assure you."

Chambers relaxed a bit. "What do you have in mind?"

"It's not all set in stone yet," Torin Mahogany lied. "And I can't tell you until it is. Besides, it would be better if you didn't know. I'll tell you when the time comes, but believe me, you have nothing to lose and everything to gain..."

**Okay, I've got a beta's approval for a plot!chapter, so that's what you're getting. :/**

**Nah, I'm kidding. But you **_**are**_** getting a plot chapter. Anyways, I hope it's okay; I'm still unsure if this chapter flows well with last, even though Ano-chan thinks it does. I didn't know if I should post this 'cuz it was already written, or finish up the other chapter I was working on, which featured another tourney battle. If you disapprove, definitely tell me.**

**...The above paragraph is my muse's perfectionism speaking. Feel free to ignore.**

**And since I love talking in Author's Notes (weird, tell me about it), I'm just going to fangirl over all of these OC characters you guys sent me...I love them all. So, last weekend, I sat down and went over every single character that I've accepted (even if I didn't say a word to you, I probably accepted them; if I didn't accept them, I'd have told you), and I decided exactly what every single OC is going to do. Most of them have a pretty important role, especially if they fit well with other people's OCs. Well, now I found two characters that rival my love for Chandler and Rixa, so of course, I wrote this chapter for the two of them (if you haven't caught on yet, I'm talking about Amelia and Zakkus. :3). As you can probably see, I have a tendency to only write what I want to write, which is why I was unsure about this chapter.**

**Yeah, you can ignore the above paragraph too.**

**But the real reason that I'm still droning on to you people is on the topic of summer. For once in my life, it's a bright and sunny June where my muse is actually buzzing with ideas for one fic, which just so happens to be Knight's Game. So yay! On the down side, it's June, school's over, and that just screams VACATION. Okay, I'll just say it outright. I'm going on a cruise for maybe...a weekish, but I have to go to a different state to meet my cousins before that. So I'm going to be gone for, maybe, 11-12ish days. Which is actually nothing compared to the month it takes for me to update...**

**So this warning is actually pretty useless. Um, I'm gonna shut up now. .-.**

**Credits**

**Naomi Astari- Nicole Vermillion**

**Amelia Spelman- DevoTheMadCashCow**

**Friday Thursday- Happy2Bme**

**Zakkus Kitsunii- Zerez**


	9. The Righteous and the Not So

**Disclaimer- I don't, and most likely will never, own Pokémon, though if I need to say this every chapter, I'm flattered you think I'm creative enough. Except for the Gen. V, because those Pokémon look...uh...**

He was forced to his knees, his back parallel to the cold, hard ground.

They had confiscated his leather armor; to sell or burn, Zakkus Kitsunii would never know. All he was aware of now was the bitter wind through his thin prisoner's gown, and the contrasting burn across his back as the wiry whip lashed out.

Thirty times, he had been told.

Thirty times, the blade of a whip would sink its fangs into his flesh and leave a dark red mark as its gift.

But instincts kept him from crying out, because his pride as swordsman was much greater than the pain. Zakkus was firm in his decision not to give Death the opportunity to watch him squirm before It claimed him. He would not lose hope, because it was not yet lost; Zakkus had watched that Page fight. The girl could have lied until she turned blue, but a blade was always truthful. She had been honest to herself as best as she could, and that was Zakkus's last glimmer of a chance to live again.

XXX

It was with a fool's courage that Amelia Spelman strode through the bland corridors of Fort Dala. She wasn't one to gloat, but she knew that she was much safer as a guard than as one of the rotting corpses inside the cells that lined the walls. Amelia was tasked to the night patrol shift, a job for the lowest of the low on the work chain. She had finished the main building, as well as side buildings I and II. Subconsciously though, she had set aside the worst sector for last.

Building III had been strategically placed on the maps; tall, dense woods grew all around it and almost no moonlight could infiltrate the thick branches to shine on the BIII prisoners. BIII was also the prison for the worst of criminals. Deranged murderers with the blood of countless innocents on their hands, thieves of people's very lives, hardened bandits with not a care in the world for anything but the skin on their bones; these villains lurked behind rusted bars, starved and crazed and only shadows of their former glory.

It bothered Amelia that she was so concerned. Surely the captives had earned their lifelong stay in such a hellish place. They were _killers_, after all.

And yet, when Amelia had overheard that Zakkus Kitsunii's room would be in BIII, she had had to bite her own tongue to keep herself from vehemently protesting. The man, she was sure, was evil, so why was she so against his punishment?

Because it was so inhumane? Because no one, not even murderers, deserved to be treated as less than human? Because doing so, punishing spilt blood with spilt blood, would mean that she herself was no better than the men inside the cages?

"My, you're a pretty one, kehehe," rasped a chilling voice from behind her. Amelia felt the hairs on her neck prickle at the sound. Her hand flew to her waist and her shining blade was drawn and positioned at the cackling prisoner's neck in an instant. Slowly, her sword not moving from its place beneath her target's thin jaw, Amelia turned around and locked eyes with a monster more frightening than nightmares. Her eyes drifted downward, looking over the old man's crumpled and grinning form, and she shivered.

His yellowing teeth were left exposed in his wavering grin, his bloodshot eyes shining with interest. His skin was a graying green—unhealthy, dying. The veins in his unnaturally thin limbs pulsed visibly. His left hand, missing three fingers, grasped weakly at the bars separating him and Amelia.

"So different, hee," said the convict, his gaze not straying from Amelia's face. He took a shuddering breath. "They call me Zyx. That is not my given name...it appears that I am not worthy enough to bear a real name."

He broke off, surveying the sheen of sweat that layered Amelia's face, the grimace of her jaw, the firm hold she had on her hilt. "I've never seen something like you. What is your name?"

"Someone," Amelia automatically corrected.

"Hm?"

"Someone. I'm a person. Therefore, you use someone. Something refers to an object," Amelia explained, feeling foolish in giving lessons to a man in jail.

Zyx closed his eyes, still smiling faintly. He appeared to have dozed off right there on his feet, but then he spoke. "So you are smart for one so young...but I'm afraid that 'people' have no meaning in BIII. In this world, in my world, there are no 'people'. Just useless...objects..."

He stepped forward, and Amelia was forced to withdraw her blade to keep from skewering him as he pushed his body against the bars of his cage.

"What do you mean?" she asked steadily, even though she didn't really want to hear the answer. Amelia hoped he would say that he was kidding, and that he knew that life had special meaning; she wished to hear him say that useless was a useless word itself because it described nothing else...

A hollow laugh slipped out of Zyx's mouth, his shoulders shaking with the effort. "Stick around and you'll see. You'll see men who are punished for doing what they thought was right because others thought that they were wrong. When you get down to it...what exactly is right...or wrong?"

Amelia felt protest bubble up in her throat. She exclaimed, "Hurting people is wrong! The criminals here are being punished for overlooking their neighbors' happiness. That's all there is to it; it's not as complicated as you make it out to be."

"Oh, but it is." Zyx looked at her and Amelia saw for the first time the age in his weary eyes. "After all, haven't you seen me for the...hideous beast that I am? This pain...am I not what you call a 'person' as well? Then why am I talking to you from behind these bars? Why am I being antagonized so?"

"Because, you've done wrong in your life. This is compensation for whatever you did."

"What did I do?" Zyx pressed. Amelia had no answer. She found herself grasping for an answer, anything to keep her side of the argument up.

"It doesn't matter if I don't know. You did wrong and you must repent."

The prisoner cocked his head, but did not pause. "Did I do wrong?"

Amelia swallowed with a bit of difficulty. Cold sweat ran down her neck. What if Zyx, or worse, what if there were prisoners who had been captured under misunderstandings; captives who were suffering for things that they had not done?

"Is that true?" Her voice sounded coarse and rough even to her. "...Do you not know why you are here?"

Zyx half shrugged, sparing only the minimal energy it took to lift his bony shoulders up. "I killed off some sleazebag noble a couple of decades ago."

The blonde page stepped back, repulsed. "Of course that's wrong, then! Can't you see why you're here? You murdered someone; took someone's very life. And a noble's, at that!"

"Why does it matter if I killed him? Knights kill during war. It's the same thing." His casual tone unnerved Amelia, but maybe it was because he was beginning to convince her. She didn't know what she was beginning to believe, because she knew that she would always believe killing was wrong. Amelia blinked as she realized that she didn't understand Zyx's angle. He gained nothing at all by talking with her; either way, they both knew that he end up dead without ever being free again.

"What...are you trying to say? That killing isn't the same. You should know that. Killing without good reason...it's wrong, and it needs to be punished." Her own thoughts were as jumbled as the words coming out of her mouth. Amelia wasn't used to being this confused. Her mind was telling her one thing, the ideas she had grown up with, but her heart...

Her heart was leading her in the other direction.

But there was no way she would ever want to conspire with criminals. That would break every rule she had ever set for herself.

"No one kills without a reason," Zyx said quietly. "No one would take a life because it is wrong. You're a good girl; pure and true. Don't let other people's opinions muddle with your actions. Get your facts straight and act from the bottom of your heart. You won't go wrong."

XXX

Naomi was getting frustrated.

Her Gardevoir, Estella, hovered behind her, telepathically reporting what Vermont was seeing. There were no breathing beings behind them, and the only living things were the trees and plants. Vermont sensed no ill intent, no assassins waiting in the trees. In fact, in the areas he had scouted, there was not a breathing soul.

A sharp whacking sound to her left distracted Naomi.

She jumped, cursing in her mind. Vermont must have missed someone, she thought. But even as she turned her head, she knew that it was not true. Two figures stood in the distance. One was a prisoner, she noted from the gown that he wore. His hair was a memorable red and he was fairly tall. The man beside him was bald and rough—a guard who held a whip. The weapon lashed out again, slashing audibly into the criminal's back.

Naomi winced, unaccustomed to seeing Jota's methods of torture. She averted her eyes, only to see a third, hidden girl.

She appeared to be another guard, but as the first was blunt and brutal, she was young and almost uncertain. She watched silently, out of the prisoner's view. Her face was sympathetic, frightened, and yet she did not seem to want to help him. Looking at her, Naomi could not help but feel that the girl was fighting her own battle, with herself.

_I do not blame her. I believe that there is more to this than what we have seen. Keep tabs on this one, alright, Estella?_ the noblewoman thought to her Pokémon. The Gardevoir smiled primly and nodded.

Naomi Astari turned away to leave, and as her mind dwelt the scene she had witnessed that night, she almost forgot that her mysterious letter sender had failed to show up once more.

XXX

It had been a week. For seven whole days, Amelia had avoided cell 1337. During a span of 168 hours, she had arrived to bring food for its single occupant every morning before he had risen. For 10,080 minutes, she had taken the long route across the prison camp so she would not have to look into his scarred face. And after all 604,800 seconds of her best efforts to remain true to her task, her captain, Sir Felix Wright himself, was forcing her to confront her deepest fears.

Amelia Spelman knew that if she exchanged even one word to Zakkus Kitsunii, her inner defenses would crumble and she would want to know more. She was desperately curious about everything, really; his life before, his time as a knight, his crime, and his days afterward, she wanted to know it all so that she could be sure that she was doing the right thing.

But she also knew that if she did uncover the forgotten truth...

Amelia knew that she would rather die a traitor than standby and watch an innocent be condemned.

Her feet stopped in front of the locked doors labeled 1337. Her gaze lingered uncomfortably at the floor until she had mustered up the smallest courage to peer inside.

Zakkus met her gaze silently.

He sat on the cot provided for him, hunched over tiredly, his chin resting on his palms. He looked weak; his azure eyes shaded into a dull, apathetic blue, as if, just as the scars across his back showed his injured body, his soul had also been sucked out and broken.

Amelia managed to avoid looking confused, but inside, she wondered what had happened to reduce the condescending, elite swordsman she had fought not even a month before into the crumbling, shattered man that sat in front of her.

Well, perhaps not so weakened, evident in the dark laughter that layered his face as his mouth cracked open in a wry grin.

"I knew they'd send for me sooner or later," Zakkus croaked. Unbeknownst to the lady page, his confidence had taken a deep blow over the week that Amelia had evaded him. He had not even considered the possibility that she would be able to withstand the urgings of her good heart. He thought that maybe his mind had grown dull over the years.

"Yeah," Amelia managed somewhat pathetically. Zakkus staggered to his feet, but his escort stopped him. "Wait. I-I have to tie you up; safety precautions. So that...so that we don't have criminals on the loose."

Zakkus blinked and shrugged the disappointment off. "It's sad how you Knights seem to think that a bunch of starving, bleeding ragtag bandits could outperform all the guards. Back in my day, words like 'honor' and 'bravery' existed."

He internally winced. He hadn't realized how harsh that had sounded out loud.

Amelia's face hardened and she snapped more firmly, offended at the insult, "It's safety! You want a murderer running merrily around in _your_ cell?"

"It would be good company," said Zakkus lazily.

"Company doesn't matter when you're dead," Amelia reminded him.

He looked at her, his expression suddenly serious. "He wouldn't be able to touch me. The barbarians that you keep here are nothing compared to the swordsmen of reality."

Amelia regarded him with scorn. "You're an overconfident idiot. I don't know what rock you've been living under, but some people here are actually dangerous. Some of them, I couldn't even take on, and I'm the one who brought _you_ in."

All of a sudden, her assigned prisoner stopped walking, and Amelia turned to face him quizzically.

"Your tactics are one of a kind, lady page," Zakkus told her. "Using your Pokémon as reinforcements? Is that some modern war tactic? Because I wasn't ever taught that."

With a loose grip, Amelia tugged on his binds, forcing him forward again.

"Not really," the blonde girl admitted. "Believe it or not, I was only recently recruited. Rex, and all the others...I trained them myself. I thought that in battle, I should give myself every fair advantage possible, especially if I could bring justice to evildoers such as yourself."

Too engrossed in thought, she didn't realize it when she added, "Why _are_ you an evildoer? You were very good with your blade; you should have become a Knight instead."

Zakkus himself didn't notice her reverie. "I can't tell you that yet," he said, looking grimly at the floor. "One day, if I survive this, then maybe you'll find out."

Their feet halted in unison in front of the extravagant doors of Wright's chambers. Amelia paused to straighten up her act, unnerved by how human Zakkus seemed. Similarly, the convict coughed uncomfortably into his ragged sleeve. Then, cautiously, they both entered the lair of the Captain of the Guard.

Felix Wright was waiting for them in the dim room, lit only by the strategically placed candles that burned three feet to both sides of the Knight. A covered bed was untouched in the corner, faded away in darkness, and a wooden table was set up on the opposite wall. The large shield treasured as the emblem of a Knight laid upon it, displaying the figure of a Wailord.

Zakkus looked away from the captain bitterly, spitting his distaste at his feet. Amelia loosened the rope that bound his hands together and he freed them slowly.

"Go," he said to her. "You don't want to see what comes next."

Wright grinned widely, his eyes dancing, his tone teasing. "No, she can stay."

Amelia was unsure of whose orders to obey, and she froze when she realized that she had just compared the orders of her overlord to the concerns of a criminal. She stood rooted to the floor, regretfully not because of Sir Wright, but because Amelia Spelman was afraid of what her next movement might turn out to be.

Zakkus and Wright had begun chatting, exchanging verbal insults, but Amelia's head spun so badly that she could only make out their lips moving.

"Years ago, I would have laughed in the face of anyone who had told me we would eventually be standing here like this, bitter foes," Wright said calmly, not really that concerned. He had already won, after all. What was there to be flustered about?

Zakkus shrugged and replied scathingly, "As would have I, old friend."

Amelia twitched at the suggestion that the pair had once been close allies, but her superior didn't bat an eye. "I guess my judgment was dull back then," he drawled.

"Or rather, your heart is now."

Wright, two inches taller than Zakkus, slowly rose to his full height. His eyes bore into his junior's skull. He hissed, disgusted, "I am doing my duty, the one I swore my life to. I am bringing justice to those who have forgotten their place; the same justice that you vowed you would live by until eight years ago. The same justice that I, Felix Wright, now swear that I will condemn you to!"

His furious tone was coupled with a complete lack of movement between the two men, yet Zakkus was undisturbed. His expression indifferent, he ran his hand through his bright hair and reminded himself to trim it a bit if he ever survived his execution.

"I left, Felix," he said slowly, as if the longer it took for him to drag out that sentence, the better Wright would remember it. "For reasons that you are aware of. Justified reasons. What is this criminal business that I have had to put up with ever since...then?"

"Murder is never justified," Amelia butted in, although she didn't understand what her companions were arguing over. Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword, just in case violence broke out. It was her job to protect her captain, but also, she had an odd feeling that she did not want Zakkus to be hurt in a brawl either.

They ignored her. In their world of the past, Amelia did not exist. They glared at each other, both vaguely aware of the feelings that bound them inexplicitly together, emotions of newfound anger, resurfacing rivalries, lingering friendships, and the recently discovered pity and understanding. Their eyes reflected disgusted hatred but only because they knew that, inside, they were frighteningly similar. The pair shared the same interests, had known the same goals, had the same aspirations...

"You were sworn to the king," Wright said simply. "Moreover, you were sworn to me. You were my squire. When you left...reasons or no, it was treason, Zakkus."

Amelia stepped back as the impact of his words hit her truly for the very first time. "Wait a minute," she interrupted again, confused. "You keep saying that he was a traitor because he left his training."

Zakkus laughed scornfully. "You didn't tell her? Lady Page, you did not know that the moment you call yourself a page, you were in it for life? Leaving would be betraying the King. It will end you up just like me."

"That's not the point!" Amelia retorted, fully convinced that she would not give up her dream of Knighthood for the world. "I mean, you killed Missus Savina Chile. That's why you were confined, right...?"

Zakkus coughed, and even Wright looked surprised. "Who told you that, girl?" the Knight asked.

"You did!" Amelia shouted, but then she bit back her accusation as she struggled to recall the facts. "Although, you didn't actually tell it to me. You gave me the order to capture Zakkus by sending a runner."

"I never tell the runner specific details," Wright said stiffly, offended by the thought. "What did he say?"

"He said..." Amelia felt strangely excited, as if she knew that she could get down to the bottom of the mystery for once and for all. "He said that Zakkus Kitsunii was an experienced assassin. Savina had an affair with some noble and Zakkus killed her out of jealousy and spite."

Glaring silence from Zakkus answered her. Wright was muffling his laughter. The young girl felt immensely immature and inexperienced.

"Heh," chuckled the captain, regaining his aloof, uncaring nature. "Reduced to an envious schoolboy...Page Amelia, you cannot believe everything you hear."

Bewildered, Amelia cried, "Then why did I arrest him?"

Zakkus answered first. "You already know, because I left the King's side."

"That is crazy," declared Amelia.

"Is it?" both men returned simultaneously. Upon noticing, they turned to scowl at one another again. Amelia found, with misplaced humor, that they resembled pouting toddlers despite their maturity.

"The late King was an astounding man who gifted his trust in all of his subjects, even if they did not deserve it," stated Wright after a moment of awkwardness. "If one of them left, like Zakkus here, we had no way of knowing whether or not he would reveal Jota's weaknesses and secrets."

"Please," Zakkus frowned in his own defense. "Why the Hell would I want to do that? You should know that money and rank are not among the things that I want."

Amelia's heart tightened, bringing beads of sweat to her brow. Questioning her superiors could bring punishment worse than death, but she compared it to the mental anguish of incessantly questioning her beliefs. Before her, her life branched into two paths. Amelia felt them leering at her, weaving across each other, taunting. "And why would he be sentenced to death? It doesn't make sense. Sir Wright, are you sure that is his only offense? Do you know why he left, and what Savina Chile had to do with it?"

"Do not be silly, Amelia, and let other factors waver the loyalty that binds you to the throne," Wright said shortly.

Zakkus kept his mouth closed, observing Amelia with interest as she struggled with her inner conscience.

Finally, she spoke, albeit quietly and resigned. "Then tell me this. Was there a valid reason behind Zakkus Kitsunii's defection?"

The ex-squire in question smiled darkly, closing his eyes in anticipation. The clock tower rang as another hour ended.

Felix Wright kept his own eyes on Amelia, and he said absolutely nothing.

That was enough for the young page.

Her sword was out, and Wright's soon followed. There was a clash, a gigantic difference in skill and strength. Amelia pounced, praying for time and stealth. She could barely survive against the captain; she hoped with all her might that their battle would not attract the attention of reinforcements.

Somewhere deep down, she was still a little girl, questioning her actions. Yes, she was the same as Wright, the same as what Zakkus had been. Her dreams had bound her to the King-less throne...but the red-haired man had escaped its chains. Could she?

What was she fighting for?

The thought haunted her as she crossed blades with one of the men she looked up to the most. Their eyes met, and in that instant, if she had seen differently in that moment, Amelia Spelman might not have lived again. Amelia saw in his face no questions, no hesitation, no empathy. There was only belief, belief in his blade, belief in his heart, belief in his justice. She plunged in.

Her body remembered her exercises, her eyes noticed movements that she could not have before her training. She kept his chest in view, knowing that the slight twitches gave away his actions. Wright anticipated her own attacks without looking.

She felt energized, young, merciless. Amelia felt the life pulsing through her veins, savored each beat of her racing heart as she darted around her enemy in attempt to find his one blind spot. This was what she had been born to do.

They both fought for the same thing: their beliefs and their differing conceptions on what was right. In another time, in another world, they would have been allies. Now, as much as Amelia wished otherwise, they fought.

Zakkus Kitsunii watched on, not indifferent, not passionate. He had been disarmed and weakened, and he had no desire to throw himself into the midst of the clash. He felt guilty that he had planned for this. The girl had been the key to his escape. If she had not been as true, he would have been dead.

Amelia jumped to dodge Wright's kick, deftly deflected his swipe with her sword, and landed on the neat bed. She was layered in a coat of sweat, her opponent unperturbed. She hacked at his bedpost. The expensive canopy collapsed on Wright just as she leapt out of the way.

The lady page looked proud of herself as she crashed through the door and called for Zakkus to hurry up and run. The wanted man turned to obey, but shot one lingering glance at his old friend. Amelia had not realized, but Zakkus reflected on Wright's sluggish movements with considerable concern.

There was no way that Wright could have known of Amelia's betrayal beforehand, so a trap would have been out of the question. Age would not be a problem in slowing down the captain's movements. He was very fit and strong.

There was no question that Wright would recover and be after them, so Zakkus pushed aside his doubts and followed the younger girl. There would be plenty of time to worry later...or so he hoped.

XXX

Zakkus shuffled uncomfortably as Amelia sat down and explained their predicament to a young girl with white-ish hair and pink eyes. Her name was Monday or Thursday or something, and her oddly colored eyes shone with pride and utter excitement as Amelia retold of the battle.

She appeared to be an acquaintance of the young page. Zakkus figured that they stood in front of her home, a ragtag building in an even shabbier part of the town.

"I can't believe that you fought with the Captain," Monday-or-Thursday mumbled, at a loss for words. "And yet you were completely right in it."

She looked over at Zakkus and snorted. "Friday Thursday," she introduced herself although Amelia had already done so. "You better thank Lady Amelia for saving your doomed behind."

Zakkus twitched, somewhat disturbed by her attitude. "You weren't there to see it; she wasn't that good."

"I bet she's better than you!" Friday seemed to take it as a personal insult. "Imagine, she's the first female page in forever. You're just some incompetent nobody. She's made history. You haven't."

Amelia smiled at the praise, still high from adrenaline. "As much as I hate to say it, Friday, I'm sure Sir Zakkkus can teach me a lot. Which is why I'm going to begin training with him. You can too, if you want."

That took both of them by surprise.

"I never agreed to anything of the sort," protested Zakkus weakly just as Friday vehemently exclaimed, "I don't like him. I refuse to accept any kind of charity."

Amelia shrugged. "But I've never had a student before, and I'm not that good of a teacher. You'll learn a lot more from a honest-to-goodness squire."

"I'm not a squire!"

Friday voiced his opinions. "Exactly! Wait a bit, why aren't you a squire? Or actually, you'd be a Knight by now, right? If you didn't kill this Savina girl, why'd you leave? You don't look to be the type to ditch. More like, you'd be kicked off."

She laughed at his discomfort as Zakkus frowned. He usually didn't tolerate this kind of behavior, but he felt no motivation to reprimand it. Darn, he thought, prison must've softened me.

"I left because," Zakkus paused, unsure if he wanted to reveal more of his past. He cursed himself for being so weak, for being mentally unable to get over what had happened so long ago. He began again. "I left because Savina really was murdered. And someone...somebody had to take the blame. I guess I was still in denial. I didn't want to believe she was dead, gone. And then I realized that she wasn't ever coming back, and I just wanted to leave and have nothing to do with nobility anymore."

He trailed off when he saw that Friday was staring at him with an odd expression on his face, a mixture of not sympathy, but uncertainty and wonder. Amelia nodded in faux understanding.

She pressed gently, "Who was she to you?"

Zakkus looked up at the far off sunrise. His eyes glazed over as he submerged himself with memories of a lost past. "Savina Chile was the woman I loved."

**First off, my updating schedule (or lack thereof) sucks. Feel free to yell at me. I learned that summer is not a good working season because I get lazy. Also, I recently learned that chapters get written a lot quicker if I write a page a day rather than waiting for a day when I'm not too lazy to sit down and write the whole thing.**

**Second off, Ra, please do not kill me for butchering Zakkus's past. If it annoys you, I would love to change it, but I can't because it's actually really, really important to the story/plotline.**

**Thir—screw this.**

**Next chapter will be the last battle of this tournament stage: Anastasia Luxe's battle with Cassandra Sullivan titled Battle of Royals. It stars the above two participants along with Felix and Sarixa again. It also has a lot more Torin drama, so yay for that.**

**Thanks to Ano-chan and Maecenas. You cannot believe the things they caught. Cheers. :D**

**Credits**

**Zakkus Kitsunii- Sin of Dragons**

**Amelia Spelman- DevoTheMadCashCow**

**Naomi Astari- Shades of Vermillion**

**Friday Thursday- Happy2Bme**


	10. Battle of Royals

**Disclaimer: Pokémon is not mine and will never be. Sadly.**

She should not have done this.

Anastasia fidgeted, glancing nervously around her for sudden movements. Any moment now, she could be recognized and recaptured. Paranoia kept her from acting out, but the nobles in the crowd remained stoic and detached, and the guards never once moved.

A sudden cry tore her attention from the watching eyes. The limp form of a red and yellow Pokémon hurtled past Ana's cheek, scattering dirt as it fell to the ground. Before the pursuing Staravia could recommence his attack, a steady rock form stepped forward to intercept it.

"Golem, good thinking! Protect Plusle and attack with Rock Throw!" Ana cried, remembering her job as a tournament participant. "Plusle, send up a Thunder Wave if you can."

Cassandra Sullivan watched as the Staravia under her command drew back, under fire, to perch on his partner's head. The unexpecting Salamence flinched as the sharp talons wrapped around his forehead until Staravia let out a squawk of indignation. Accepting his partner, Salamence slowly turned his nose to the sky, shaking his head from side to side.

The rays of the morning sun streamed down on the two combatants, but neither Ana nor Cassandra were truly glad to be on display. Both were nervous, despite their bests attempts to conceal their anxieties. The two stood in the same battlefield for entirely different reasons, though their interests coincided.

Cassandra belonged to the prestigious Sullivan family, a noble clan who had prospered under his late Majesty's favor. Being wealthy and renown, strong and prideful, Cassandra knew that the reputation of her kin rested solely on her shoulders. There was no way for her to forget because she had been forced into a stiff, tight costume in order to maintain the good Sullivan name.

Normally, Cassandra would be fine to display herself to the public in a simple dress and minimum jewelry, something comfortable and modest. On this particular day, the youngest daughter of Sullivan was adorned in the most flattering gown from her sister's wardrobe, complemented nicely by a sapphire broach worth enough to feed a village for a year. Her long ginger hair tied up with numerous shimmering pins, she felt quite like a doll. Naturally, Cassandra had been against it, but her mother was insistent, and she already knew she was cutting it close with even wanting to battle.

Anastasia, used to fancier outfitting than that she wore herself, could not help but feel that her traveler's attire paled in comparison with the skirts of her opponent. Disguised as a mere poet, Ana wondered if she could even be in the same class as Cassandra Sullivan. She shook her head; of course she was! Ana knew royals. They were human through and through, just lucky enough to be born into the light.

"Come on, Staravia, Aerial Ace." Cassandra's voice was smooth, free of the discomfort that laced her mind. Inwardly, she cursed the tournament organizer several times over for presenting her with the dilemma. Luckily, Anastasia was not close enough to see Salamence's problem, but it was only a matter of time before the suspicion would ring clear as day.

"Rock Throw again! Plusle, can you get behind Golem? The Staravia is only a hazard to you."

The bullet of a bird spiraled dangerously close to the rock and his rabbit ally. Erecting a wall of earth, Golem punched several rocks free and sent them flying towards the advancing Staravia. Plusle huddled behind Golem's chunky leg, all but helpless in the face of immediate danger.

Staravia dodged sideways to avoid the oncoming projectiles, spinning out of control before righting himself. He was exposed for the briefest moments while trying to clear his head of dizziness, and several boulders were tossed his way.

Cassandra could take the risk. "Staravia, get out of there! Salamence, can you destroy those boulders? They're in front of you, to the right a bit."

Staravia struggled to gain height, but the Rock Throw inched nearer with every fleeting move, and the Salamence was reacting sluggishly. A Hyper Beam was launched, seemingly aimed more towards the bird Pokémon than the attack endangering it. A second, aimed too high. Another, too low, a hit, narrowly grazing the side. The Golem was hit! But three boulders crushed Staravia on impact, snapping the poor Pokémon's wing and knocking him out.

The Golem, through pain, was laughing. Chuckles heaving his stony shoulders, his eyes shone with malicious humor, appreciating the good joke that the Plusle did not seem to understand. Likewise, Anastasia was lost. Perhaps it was that Salamence's power was too great to control? But no, that would not explain the blank expression that graced the dragon's features despite the casualty in battle. Cassandra faced the battle with gritted teeth. Surely even a _blind Salamence_ could defeat such foes through brute strength alone, with proper tactics!

And she had not even uncovered what her opponent's weakness was.

"Very well, Salamence, we've got to play it big," Cassandra decided. "Fly straight up!"

Ana glanced at the sky, wondering if there were any elements of the weather to take advantage of. None worthy of noting, she sighed. "Plusle, get on Golem's back. Use Copycat to get on even ground with Salamence! Golem, see if you can use Rollout to gain acceleration!"

Salamence spread his great red wings, unfurling them to reveal a massive wingspan. One powerful downward thrust launched the dragon into the air, straight up, with no unnecessary movements. A continuous gust of air caused by the repeated motion of flaps made it difficult for the Plusle's own attack to form, but the electric Pokémon managed to pull two glowing wings out of the Salamence's attack. As the Plusle rose after the dragon, Golem span on the ground, racing to and fro in anticipation. Adrenaline gave him speed unmatched until he was but a blur flitting about on the dirt ground, waiting like a dust angel of death.

"Salamence, straight ahead! Don't let them knock you down. Zen Headbutt!"

Soft purple enveloped Salamence, radiating a strange aura around the Pokémon's form. Salamence hovered, neglecting the use of his wings for a second, simply focusing on the strenuous task of exerting Psychic pressure. Then, quick as a bullet, he rocketed forward without warning.

"We've got an advantage! Spark! Now!"

Electricity coursed through the air around Plusle, mingling with the strange rays of power that emanated from blue scales. Talons of lightning singed at their intended mark as the poor Plusle fell from the sky, smoking, exhausted from the battle he had waged against the mental intruder. His sacrifice was not in vain, for the static left over from the Plusle's strength worked magic on Salamence's wings, paralyzing the muscles he used to stay elevated. Both plummeted to the ground. One made contact, creating a soft plume of dust. The other was greeted not by dirt but by rock, as the wheel that was Golem set his sights on preventing the dragon from landing.

Rollout hit the beast over and over again, battering the damaged body until at last the blinded eyes of the Salamence rolled into the back of his head, and he fainted.

XXX

She looked familiar, but Felix Chandler just couldn't put his finger on _why. _The lass who had won the final battle in the first round; her disguise was that of a poet, but the mere way she carried herself – elegant, skillful, prideful – matched the stride of nobility. The girl, Ana...

Beside Felix, the criminal called Sarixa Koteri was growing impatient with simply watching.

"Aren't you going to do something? Like, I don't know, wave a hand and conjure up something to pass the time instead of staring at this commoner like a lovesick fool? Don't you have any pride?" she huffed, annoyed.

"Hush, Sarixa, I'm thinking right now." His tone was a parent acknowledging ever so slightly a child's whims. He had long perfected this nonchalance simply being in Sarixa's challenging presence.

"I didn't escape from that stinky prison to watch you think. That's all you ever do! 'Hush, Sarixa, I'm thinking. Quiet, I've got to think this out. Gosh, Sarixa, don't you think before you act?' Can we please stop thinking for once in our lives before we die?" Her imitation of the young man's voice was poor, high-pitched, and squeaky.

Felix turned towards her, an odd expression gracing his features. "Sarixa, say there was a poet who was actually a noble in disguise. Would that be 'fun' for you?"

He did not need to ask; he did not need an answer. Rixa was up for anything, and her definition of what was fun far exceeded the norms of any other person. Her violet eye hazed over in an emotion not joy, not disappointment, not yet excitement.

Grim interest, a feline's keen humor.

The girl twirled a lock of disgusting hair around a nimble finger. "I don't know, Chandler, what will happen to this noble in the end?"

Felix brought his hand up to hide his growing grin, but his eyes still danced with satisfaction. Something to satisfy the demands of his curiosity, at long last. "Sarixa, I believe that end result would depend on us..."

XXX

The plan started with the Imperial Palace, and that was the best part of Rixa. She never had stuck around to see the good Captain's fury at her escape last week. She giggled; it appeared the culprit always did return to the scene of the crime. She voiced her musings to Chandler, but the boy shook his head, saying, "I don't think that's the right comparison for this situation."

"What a killjoy," Sarixa grumbled aloud. Chandler had insisted that they split up to investigate this poet of a noble, so she was alone in the dungeons she had broken in through, all save for the Golbat he'd given her earlier.

A group of soldiers marched down a nearby hallway, headed off to who-knows-where. Sarixa wondered for a brief moment what would happen if she dropped a visit to the dear Captain Felix to mock him for not noticing her 'friend' amongst the prison guards. Golbat made a funny noise, interrupting her thoughts. Rixa sighed. Even in separation, Chandler was monitoring her.

With a startling burst of immaturity, she stuck out her tongue at the Golbat. "Nyeh! I'll do whatever I want; what are you going to do about it?"

The world did not explode with Chandler's witty comebacks, his derogatory and snide comebacks, but the bat Pokémon did falter in his flight, gaping widely at the girl but not quite comprehending exactly what had just happened. Then, as if realizing that understanding might be bad for mental health, the Golbat simply ignored her. He flew down to a potato sack used to store food for the prisoners and tugged on the rough fabric. Rixa stared at the gesture, reluctant to follow a Pokémon's suggestions.

Finally, she relented, but only under the knowledge that the Golbat was actually making sense. With the pace of a herd of Torkoal stampeding through quicksand, Sarixa made her way over to the bag and tore some cloth loose. Using that makeshift handkerchief, she removed the majority of the grit in her hair that had for so long been a dead giveaway to her identity. Afterwards, because she was both embarrassed and subconscious at her surprisingly bright hair color, Rixa tied the dirty rag into a bandanna around her head.

"There," she snarled, irritable at her new appearance. "Now I look like a filthy maid. Gee, this is the best transformation of my life."

"Have fun with that!" Sarixa cheerfully retorted to herself. She molded her features back into a pout. "But it's really hard to have fun when everyone is looking at you because they think you belong in a Grumpig pen."

Golbat looked on as she argued with herself. They continued in a leisurely stroll. "Yes, well, you won't notice if you make a game out of it."

"Ooh, a game? What kind of game?"

"Let's see. If you're a maid, you're allowed to go into areas unnoticed under the pretense of cleaning. You can see if you can find something pretty to take home, or maybe you'll overhear some juicy piece of gossip! You know how noblewomen are. They'll say anything."

"Hm, that does sound nice. It'll be like a game of make-believe. Chandler would be happy too, if I did uncover some—"

Sarixa found that conversations with oneself was a suitable pastime that resulted in excellent results, as a peculiar man sauntered past her. He was exactly the kind of person that would pique Chandler's interest, the regal way he brushed the wall as he walked, one foot before the other.

Every stride he took was carefully calculated to look natural, as if by chance he had long since lost sight of the steps in an ordinary walk, and he was trying to hide it. He ambled ahead as if time itself had frozen just for him, as if nothing else mattered except that he enjoy himself, as if he were strangely detached from the physical world.

The Golbat, who had taken recluse in a stray nook, flittered nervously around Sarixa's head, gnashing his jaws together in anxiety. Rixa, curious, returned the Pokémon to his ball to prevent him from harming himself. Then, carefully, guardedly, she tiptoed after him.

Never once did the man show an interest to the maid girl tailing him. He might not have even noticed her, so deeply immersed he was in his thoughts. Many soldiers and nobles passed the two during their walk in the hallway, but the only one who managed to jar the man from his innermost sanctions was a young woman of maybe eighteen years of age. She had silver hair almost as radiant as Sarixa's own and blue eyes. Her dress was outlandish, not of Jotan origin. She was a full five inches shorter than Rixa, but her distant poise mixed with her slight scowl gave her a frightening disposition. This woman would take charge of any conflict and fix it permanently.

"Lord of Mahogany, Sir Torin," she acknowledged with a pained grimace.

"Sinnoan ambassador, Lady Naomi Astari," greeted Torin gently, docile.

Sarixa lingered in the shadowy background. The palace corridors made a welcoming place for idle chatter, but the words tossed between these two nobles were certainly not idle, and Sarixa wanted to be attentive when they decided to leave for a more elusive room.

"How are the affairs of Jotan nobility?" Torin simpered, staring down at the Lady with veiled eyes. "Has a King been decided yet?"

"No," replied Naomi stiffly. "There are still two stages in the tournament."

The Lord of Mahogany tilted his head sideways, still looking condescendingly at the Sinnoan noblewoman. "Oh, really? Do you already know what these two stages will be about?"

Naomi looked uncomfortable. The silver haired girl looked around for an escape, any really. She simply did not trust the maroon-eyed Knight in front of her, but as a noble, she felt he had the right to know.

"There will be the...ah, the judging round, which is next. The nobles will decide who exactly is qualified to continue in the tournament. This includes the Lances, Sir Wright, Lady Drae, Lord Chambers, and the ambassadors..."

She trailed off noticeably, and Torin smiled. "Even me?"

Naomi coughed, before straightening. She looked straight into his eyes, and blue met red-purple. "Yes, I suppose you would be essential for the judging of the King. I will send a messenger as soon as the judging date is confirmed. Is this okay?"

"Excellent. What about the last round?"

"Essentially, it is the same. However, instead of the nobles deciding on the winner, the population of Jota will vote for their favorite. We've decided to allow campaigns and such, and hopefully the whole ordeal will be over and forgotten by the end of the season."

Torin laughed. "My sweet Lady, I doubt that this shall ever be forgotten. After all, it is the first time Sinnoa has ever played a major role in Jotan affairs."

Cold, ice, steel. "Are you suggesting that I do not have the capabilities necessary for this task, or do you imply that I have ulterior motives for my interest?"

Mingling with thorns, a blade, move too much and be pricked. "Not at all, but one can't help but feel...cautious. The Lord and Lady of Cretan have the right idea, hm?"

But two could play at that game. "But milord, you have far more to gain than I. Isn't that right? Though I might be placing an unworthy King in Jota's throne, you could simply say a word and have him replaced. You could rule in his stead."

"I have no wish to be King. That would be...problematic. For both of us, agreed?"

Sarixa was enchanted. The nobles she had messed with in her time had never acted like this. In fact, the level of syrupy animosity spread thick in the air between the two was beyond her understanding. Rixa watched a whole new world unfold before her eyes, a universe where sharp words were power, where wits and tact were key to survival. In place of blunt blows, there were concealed quips; where otherwise would be explosive arguments, Naomi Astari and Torin Mahogany paid each other poison-tipped compliments.

Unsettling, uncertain, unknown; their conversation veered from the tournament to the color of the flowers to the fashion statements of the year. Sarixa grew bored of their pleasant chatter, yet was drawn to the way their eyes would lock to create the sensation that the words they spoke bore entirely different meaning.

And then Naomi Astari of Sinnoa glanced in Rixa's direction and nodded once. The conversation was over, or rather, the part that Sarixa could be present for. With a stumbling curtsy, the disguised criminal edged away and out of view.

But no, it was all too much fun to give up. Sarixa pressed the button on Chandler's Pokéball, releasing the Golbat that she felt oh-too-grateful for. A single darting glance at the ceiling gave the order, and the bat Pokémon disappeared from sight in his efforts to relocate his master.

It was the end of the line for Sarixa's role, but Felix Chandler had ways of acquiring information, and it was time to put them to use.

XXX

The structure of Jota's castle was remarkably unique, and Felix thanked the architect who designed it for that. Long forgotten from misuse, there were a series of winding corridors hidden in the walls. Through a thick layer of dust, Felix could barely make out the words of two nobles. It appeared he had arrived too late, for the voices were deep and gruff: two males.

"Naomi Astari?" said a surprised voice, like that of a child in a man's tone. "Why would you want to know about her? She's an excellent leader, since you're asking me. Are you interested? The Astaris are an amazing line. If you've studied their history, it was actually the Astaris who founded the Sinnoan Court laws. Lady Naomi had no doubtedly inherited that brilliance, because her ideas are the work of a genius."

"So I hear," remarked a deeper, matured drawl. This one was nothing like the first, confident yet sly whereas his companion had been quick and intrigued. "It sounds like you've fallen under a spell, Lord Chambers, if you don't mind me saying so. You're of a fine age for marriage, yes?"

"Oh, Lord Mahogany, I wish you wouldn't jest so. Though I am Sinnoan by birth, I wouldn't dream of taking a bride from anywhere other than Jota. The late King found me, though I was but an unfortunate orphan, and gave me my titles and lands. For his kindness, I proudly stand by Jota, and Jota only."

The second, this Mahogany figure that Felix had heard about from Sarixa, said wryly, "You've already repaid him, haven't you? I've heard that he looked upon you like the son he never had. On top of that, you excelled in all your studies, becoming the greatest tactician Jota has ever seen."

Flushed. "Oh, stop it. You're teasing, surely. What about you? Do you plan on marrying? When this is all over, I mean. I know you're busy with whatever you're doing now."

"I believe I've been promised to the heiress of the country Tyra. Ah, her name escapes me, but she is of the Luxe line, if I recall correctly."

"Anastasia Luxe?"

"Ah! Lord Chambers, you are knowledgeable in all subjects, as usual. Talking with you never fails to test the extent of my capabilities."

Felix looked away. Certainly it was interesting, but all very vague. He felt as if they were dancing around the important topics, briefly breaching unspoken lines, but never was it too long until the conversation was back to circling nothing.

"You kid," laughed Ethan Chambers. "I have done nothing great enough to warrant your praise. But you, legitimate heir to the Jotan throne which the country is squabbling over, you tell me you are engaged to the princess, soon to be the queen, of a country as big as Tyra? That is an unbelievable conquest! I cannot believe your brother pulled that arrangement off."

"I have no brother," Mahogany said, puzzled. "The King called for it, I guess. This brother you speak of, who is he?"

Felix leaned up against the plaster that separated him from the two nobles. How odd, he thought, everyone knew who the great Garret Mahogany was! It was Garret they knew as the Lord Mahogany, not Torin.

But Lord Chambers didn't say this. He said, slowly, hesitantly, "You're right. I must have simply read about a similar case in my studies. I was mistaken; I meant to praise the good King for his success. That aside, have you met Lady Anastasia yet?"

The topic was swept under the rug as Torin stated that, no, he had not had that pleasure yet. Felix frowned. He had wanted to pursue that piece of information, that the youngest Mahogany brother had no memory of the King's eldest nephew, Torin's own older brother.

"Ah, you won't be disappointed. I've only seen dear Princess Anastasia in peace meetings, but she's a rather pretty piece. Not to offend, but I believe she is quite...ah, _rebellious_. I trust you will find your own ways to deal with her, though. You are an influential man."

Blah, blah, translated Felix in his head. More flowery nonsense. The boy couldn't care less about paying compliments every other word; he'd been standing there for forever and a moon, and they'd gotten almost nowhere!

Torin sounded distant. "Yes, so I've heard. It's a very beautiful piece, to be forcibly chained to a man one has never met before, but so frightfully disheartening, like the grace of a bird in your hand, waiting to be crushed."

"A very grim simile, milord!" exclaimed Chambers loudly. "You must view it in a more professional manner. Imagine, this marriage would tie the Jotan and Tyran lines together by blood. Future wars would be out of the question! Both nations would gain a most valuable ally, and not to mention, should tragedy strike again, in the form of another plague or catastrophe, we would always be able to depend on Tyra for support. Princess Anastasia should feel honored to have such a role in life, a much greater responsibility than sitting about all day and chattering about nothing at all, like many women around here."

Felix found great irony in that statement, both in the hypocrisy, and because he knew that there was a certain someone who would not feel the same about the 'great responsibility.'

XXX

The battle's results had caused a tremendous uproar, and Ana regretted ever participating. She had told herself to lie low, only to get the urge to completely defy all she had been taught in her life. Now, the attention she'd garnered from being 'the poor country girl who had defeated a member of the esteemed Sullivan family' threatened to overwhelm her. As if! A country girl, she thought irritably. Foreign, yes, uneducated about many Jotan customs, definitely, but Anastasia bristled at the thought of being compared to a country villager.

Not that, she added in her mind, there was anything wrong with being born as a commoner. But Ana had her pride, blast it, and now, it was being shredded to pieces.

A shout and a whistle brought her attention to the immediate problem at hand. Worst than living life rolling in Spoink mud was the aspect of being captured again. Although the Jotans could never begin to guess the extents of her identity, she had come from Tyra with soldiers, and those soldiers had heard of her adventures. They were searching high and low for her this very instant, and Ana knew that she would be doomed to sewing and bearing sons for some wretched, fat, greedy noble if she was ever caught.

There would be no worse fate than that of a useless one, she thought.

"There's a good lass," whispered a ragged breath behind her. "Just you stay right there and don't you run away now."

Several phrases that would make a drunkard wince spewed out of Ana's mouth as she jumped. The soldier who had found her stepped back in surprise, seemingly reconfirming that this vulgar girl in front of him was indeed the princess.

Two seconds, and Anastasia was gone. The soldier raised his voice to a yell, drawing the rest of the guards towards the leafy paradise that Ana had taken refuge under.

The girl spun around, but there were faces everywhere and even more arms. There was nowhere to run, but Ana struggled and pulled, tugging free when her wine-colored dress snagged on a stump.

An elbow flew at her face somewhere in the jumble, and Anastasia whipped out the bronze dagger in her belt. She did not have to use it, and she thanked the stars above, as the limbs drew away from her. She did not realize that her pursuers were gone until she was out of the garden and well out of reach, and she turned back. Ana saw nothing, just a lingering mass of black smog, like a cloud of death, parting for no one less than an angel.

"A simple thanks would suffice," said a voice behind her. Red flashed past her, recalling a Pokémon from within the smoke. "Excellent as always, Dusknoir."

Ana jumped for the second time in five minutes, but the boy was barely older than her and looked to be the opposite of a soldier.

"I would, but one, I have no idea what for, and two, you just scrapped any chance of gratitude by sneaking up on me. I hate people who sneak up on me," she snapped.

The boy merely smirked, much to Ana's chagrin. "Oh, why, it's the Tyran princess! What good luck has befallen me to meet your Grace here—ugh!"

His declaration was interrupted as Anastasia drove her knife's sheath into his stomach. "Are you insane? I'm doomed if they find me. Don't help me escape and then just hand me over. And stop laughing!"

The boy could suppress a mocking grin. "For a princess in disguise, you're not that bright, you know that? You don't even stop to think about how I know that you're a princess. You've never seen me before, have you, Miss Anastasia Luxe?"

"I..." The girl turned slowly towards him, her face overcome with emotion. "Who exactly...are you?"

"I only want to help, Miss Luxe."

"How much...do you know?"

"More than you think I know, Miss, but not enough. Never enough."

Their voiced quieting, eyes downcast, the duo subconsciously backed away from the thick veil of smoke that blinded the soldiers. Thick with mistrust, fear, and resignation, Ana spoke again.

"What is it?"

They ducked into the shade of the castle, out of view from any stray eye.

"It's for your own good. I just want you to stop running away."

Ana took an affronted step backwards, finding herself against the palace walls. "I never run away! What are you talking about?"

"You're getting married soon, aren't you? To a man you've never even met."

"Lord Mahogany," the girl spat out of scorn. "Some old geezer fifty years older than me. I'm so disgusted. I'm the blasted true heir of Tyra, but when Father died, some greedy...he took over everything! And sent me off to become a prissy noblewoman. He stole my throne! I'll never let that happen!"

The boy was eerily quiet for a moment, and then, "Give Lord Torin a chance. He's pretty young, not even thirty yet. It's too much to ask you to accept him, but...at least meet him once properly."

"Why?" demanded Anastasia. "Why should I give him the time of day? Why should I be courteous when he's out to steal the future of a girl he doesn't even know? Answer me!"

He closed his eyes, and when he spoke again, the words were so unfamiliar together that they sounded less than human. "You're more right than you believe you are. He has been arranged as your future, but, Anastasia, you see, you are his future as well."

Anastasia did not understand. She did not understand everything, the world, the reason her life was being thrown away, why she – the most blessed woman in Tyra – was also the most cursed. Above all, what Anastasia could not understand was why this boy, this random, strange boy, could make her not understand it all. Up until that very moment, she'd been so sure of herself. The future was full of possibilities, endless paths to take at her leisure, because Ana simply would not give in to fate. The boy, it seemed, had taken all those choices and narrowed them into one.

A single, lonely, painful road.

A challenge.

Would she endure it? Could she endure it?

This, Ana also did not know.

So she fled, eating her words. She ran away, away from the engagement, away from the problems, and away from the boy.

She did not look back, did not see a dirty girl pop out and take a spot next to the boy.

"So, Chandler, this is more active than you've been in years. Why take such a major role in a stranger's life? Especially since it doesn't concern you, or the tournament, at all."

Felix Chandler, still smiling, said, "The dominoes have been lined, Sarixa, and we've just knocked the first one down. Don't you think it will be 'fun' to see where the pieces fall? Enlightening, indeed."

The girl chimed in, her voice melting with Felix's own. "Enlightening, but not enough. Never. Enough."

**...Darn, this chapter was long...well, for me, anyways. I didn't even get to include all the scenes I wanted to fit in! **

**I liked this chapter a lot when I wrote it, but then I looked back and thought that a lot of it was written in a confusing, flowery way. Even the battle scene. Well, I suck at sticking with a coherent tone, so please bear with me. Yell, if it makes you feel better...(and hope that I don't screw up the next chappie~)**

**Anyways, I put up a poll not too long ago. The results are very important in the end, so those of you who haven't voted yet, drop by whenever you have the time. It's the first of several polls which I will post later on as the story progresses, so check around often. I'm not sure, but do you want me to slip in a note in the A/N every time I post a new one? Just wondering.**

**Just something random that I noticed while writing (helps you know the characters more! Sorta.). Fun fact- Felix Chandler and Anastasia Luxe's fathers are both named William. I found this interesting, but then again, it is me, so...**

**Thanks to Ano-chan, for beta-ing.**

**HAPPY HALLOWEEN, for those who celebrate it. :)  
**

**Credits**

**Anastasia Luxe- MrMissMrs Random**

**Cassandra Sullivan- winterkitten**

**Felix Chandler- Ano-chan**

**Sarixa Koteri- Jigglypuff's Pillow**

**Naomi Astari- Nicole Vermillion**


End file.
